Cub Scout
by Moon
Summary: Remus as a young pup
1. The Pack

_It's the full moon tonight, so I can't work (no funny ideas--I'm an astronomer :-)). So, plenty of time to think about HP, and which character leaps intomind at the full moon but our old friend Remus?_

_Blaise, Katie Bell, and others have given us a touching picture of the tragically kind person Prof.Lupin is as an adult. But I imagine that he wasn't always as good at controlling the Beast Within; it's probably testimony to his powers as a wizard that he's able to repress his dark side so well. He's not DADA teacher for nothing... So what was he like before he ever went to Hogwarts? Here's some speculation... (His statement "My parents tried everything" has always intrigued me).___

_(Here's one more question for all of you: we all assume Moony , Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs were Gryffindors... but we don't know this FOR SURE, right? After all, the Hat wanted to put Harry in Slytherin!)._

disclaimer: I made up Remus' mom, but all other characters are JK Rowlings'... 

> > > > > > > ##  _Cub ScoutPart I: The Pack_

For May it was dreadfully hot. Too hot to think about homework, at least, and the sunlight streaming in through the window was making Remus' head hurt as he tried to concentrate on _Great Expectations._ When his mother entered, lugging the ingredients for some vile potion, he growled softly and ran upstairs to his room.   
It was even hotter upstairs, of course—but at least it was private. Well, sort of. He'd torn the door from its hinges years ago, forcing his mother to spend the next month building a metal shed out back that his claws couldn't dent. Now he ran his finger along one of the scratches in the wall, amazed that he'd ever been so tiny.   
His human shape was far from signs of puberty—scarcely four and a half feet tall and under 80 pounds, the second smallest kid in the class—but his canine adolescence was in full swing. He'd finally grown into his paws, his coat had turned from fluff to wiry adult grey, and he'd shed his puppy teeth for a gleaming set of inch-long fangs. Along with the physical changes came the urges: to run with the pack, to lead the pack, and most of all to _hunt._ But unless he did something about those metal walls, he'd never get anything bigger than a mouse--even though he knew that the nearest neighbors two miles away had twin babies. An easy lope from here, if he could only escape. Forget the babies, he was too big to be satisfied with such morsels; he'd eat the parents first. A child for dessert, if he was still hungry.   
Head aching from heat and turmoil, he glanced at the lunar chart on the wall. Still three days till it was full. (What was left of the human inside him groaned: he was feeling this bad with three days to go? It was getting worse. Lord save him). The beast quickly took repossession: three days. If she was brewing a potion right now, he could climb out the window, sneak into the shed, and… and maybe there was something thumbs could do that paws could not. He could use a saw, at least.   
He opened the window and gazed off into the countryside, glad of their isolation because of its proximity to the forest. How many of his kind would be running free this month? This time he would join them, would show them he was the biggest and strongest. Foolishly, he sniffed—but of course a human nose would tell him nothing. The useless lump of flesh people carried around didn't deserve the title of "nose." And the ears! Always pointed in one direction. Worthless at high frequencies, even a mouse's squeak escaped them. Inferior creatures. Given his choice, he'd be a wolf twenty-nine days out of twenty-nine.   
He was just putting his foot on the windowsill when an object appeared in the sky in front of him. Human eyes were poor at motion detection, too, but their color vision was good, and he saw it was a tawny owl. He waited for it to dip down, to enter the lower part of the house where his mother was, but when it continued to hurtle straight towards him he jumped away in surprise.   
The owl was almost as startled by him as he was by it, and it dropped the letter and disappeared into the bright afternoon. The letter lay on the scratched floor, face down, its seal huge and mocking.   
He recognized the letter, of course. He'd seen his mother's own, years ago: more than half his life ago, when he was still a boy and not a cub. They'd been taking a walk in their old town, by the park, when suddenly a gang of nasty creatures had blocked their path. His mother had reached for her wand—"Red Caps," she whispered, "get behind me"—but in a wave of his hand they were gone, before he'd had a chance to realize what was happening.   
She'd been terribly proud. It wasn't his first magic—he'd turned his rubber ducky into a real swan in the bath once, and escaped school bullies a dozen times—but this was when she'd been sure, had taken out her old Hogwarts trunk and shown him everything, describing the excitement that awaited him on his eleventh birthday.   
What neither of them knew was that the Red Caps were there because, four months previously, a child had been killed and her parents bitten by a werewolf. Grief-stricken and ashamed, the couple had fled the village—to a deserted place much like this one, no doubt. They had told no one, and in less than a month's time it would be Remus' turn. The old witch who treated his bite told him about the others; he'd been much too young to understand why they had kept such a thing a secret.   
His father spent the next year traveling the world in search of a cure. All Remus remembered of him was a brooding silence, and constantly being made to swallow something reeky, or squirmy, or hissing from some dreadful vial labeled in Romanian. One of them made all his hair fall out. Another one made blood leak out from everywhere, even his eyes. The last one made him stay awake for three weeks solid, shrieking in pure terror at visions he even now shuddered to remember, and after that Mr. Lupin gave up and ran away with a pretty young witch from Transylvania.   
Mum had been lonely and sad ever since, and Remus tried desperately to hide his relief at being spared the potions.   
Their relatives, and they didn't have many, stopped talking to them too. His aunt was the worst; how was a muggle, who barely grasped that her sister was a witch, begin to understand that her cute little nephew had become a mythical creature she didn't even believe in? But not believing in him wouldn't stop him from having very sharp teeth. Apparently a cub's bite wouldn't transmit the curse—or was it because she was a muggle?—but she never transformed after Remus bit her, just became sick as a dog (if you'd pardon the expression) for a couple of full moons afterwards. His mother took him and moved to the country, never daring to discuss any of it: his father's departure, Remus' future, whether the transformations would become easier with time or whether soon he'd be a full-time monster. She tiptoed around as if he were an especially troubled ghost, even speaking in whispers.   
He sniffed again, wondering at her whereabouts—and just managed to guess that they were having lamb for dinner. That must be for his birthday. She knew he wouldn't want a cake, not this time of the month. He thought about going downstairs and asking her not to overcook the meat this time.   
But those were her footsteps on the stairs. She never came up here. He quickly remembered the letter and kicked it under the bed, then dove under the covers and pretended to be asleep.   
She entered the room with its broken door and gashed ceiling cautiously. "I saw the owl," she said, her voice quivering with excitement.   
_She saw the owl. _ Which meant she could see the shed. What would she do to him if she caught him making holes in the walls as a human? Pull all his teeth and send him to Azkaban, no doubt. He growled, scarcely hearing her next words.   
"But don't you understand, that means you're accepted!" she rambled. "I asked, a couple of years ago, they told me it was impossible—where's the letter?"   
"Grrr," said Remus.   
She sighed, and he poked his head out to see her glancing at her lunar watch. Fool! he thought. This time I won't change when the moon wanes.   
"Don't you want to go?" she asked. "I mean, you don't have to, but you could be a very powerful wizard…"   
"What do they do when a child _dies?" _he snarled cruelly. "Forget to cross their name off the list, too?"   
"You're not--" her voice quavered—"dead, and you don't even know what it says if you haven't opened it. Please let me see it. You don't have to look at it if you don't want to."   
He told her where it was and she retrieved it the way she might if it had dropped into the lions' cage at the zoo. Back in the safety of the doorway, looking at him nervously, she opened it up and began to read.   
I'm going to _Canada,_ he thought. To roam the plains and catch unsuspecting beaver-trappers by the throat…   
He scarcely heard her words. "Look at this!" she cried. "Albus Dumbledore has become Headmaster! He was always my favorite teacher… always had a solution to every problem, even if he had to break the rules a bit…" From the thick envelope, she pulled two large pieces of parchment and one small one. She glanced at the smaller one, bit her lip, and read aloud. 

"Dear Mr. Lupin,   
I am aware of your special circumstances and am confident that we can accommodate them without compromising your safety or that of other students. If you wish to attend Hogwarts, please contact me by owl before August 1 to finalize the arrangements. 

Yours sincerely, 

Albus Dumbledore   
Headmaster" 

Remus was thinking about elk. He lay still and refused to answer, except for another quiet growl.   
His mother sighed deeply and stuck the letter into the pocket of her robes. "Well, I'll give you a few days to think about it."   
This euphemism was as close as she ever came to mentioning it. 

Four days later, the moon was back to gibbous and Remus was back in school. (He'd started staying away entirely between first quarter and full, since the time he'd tried to bite someone and the principal had called his mother. She'd almost fainted when she'd heard some muggle kid call him "Dog Boy." And it was such a long bus ride to the nearest school, he couldn't take the risk of being caught out after dark).   
Now he was finishing his book report on Dickens, the last assignment of the year, while she sliced fungi and arranged them on white paper to collect the spores. There were fresh strawberries from the garden and he nibbled on them while he wrote, trying not to blot too much. They had muggle paper but he always used a quill.   
His mother's sigh made him startle and look up, spraying ink. He'd expected some problem with the mushrooms—but she was looking directly at him.   
"Is something wrong?" he wondered, made a little nervous by her gaze.   
She wrung her hands. She looked much too old for her age, gray and worn—my fault, he thought guiltily. "Have you thought about—about the letter?"   
"Not really," he lied.   
"Sweetheart," she took a deep breath—she hadn't called him that in years!—"if Albus Dumbledore thinks it's OK, I don't think you have anything to worry about. You don't know him, but I do—he's always fair, he trusts his students to use their own minds…"   
Sure, but Dumbledore's not the only one at the school, Remus thought. He couldn't imagine himself in a dormitory with children, human children, during one of his more beastly phases. "Mom, I'm a bloodthirsty ravening demon," he didn't say, desperately thinking of some other way to phrase it. "What if…" he began hesitantly. "I mean, you know how I get… for a full week, almost…" The years of not talking about it made it impossible to say anything stronger than this. Then he burst out, "I try to tear down the shed all the time! Even as a human! You can't trust me!" With the moon waning, the beast was so weak it didn't even yelp at this betrayal.   
Diana Lupin smiled a sad smile. "I know, dear, I know. Why do you think the shed is right outside the window? And I'm sure Dumbledore knows, too."   
He stared at his homework so as not to cry, knowing she understood more than he'd ever imagined. He wiped his eyes quickly. "Then what--?"   
"They have some sort of room for you, far away from the school, where you can't get in or out yourself… Safer even than here, I'm sure."   
The implication of her words finally sank in. "You've already spoken to Dumbledore," he realized, but with a small smile, rather than accusingly. In spite of himself he was starting to get excited. What would he be writing essays on this time next year?   
"Of course. I just couldn't help it. He still want to speak to you, of course—I mean, if you want to--"   
"I do want to," Remus admitted. "More than anything in the world." Another terrible thought occurred to him. "But do they—will they—will everybody know?"   
"Dumbledore said it was up to you. You'll go far enough away that no one will know."   
"Up to _me?"_ Finally he smiled for real, starting to believe that maybe there could be someone on this earth who trusted him. "He really said that? Then of course it's a secret! I'll tell them--" he tried to think of something.   
"Tell them I'm ill," she suggested almost immediately. He felt a pang of guilt, realizing how much she'd had to lie for him over the years. "And if they figure out that it's always at the, er, same time of the month, well then—tell them it's I who am the…"   
"Mom! I couldn't tell a story like that." But they were laughing together.   
"Oh, I wouldn't tell them anything," she corrected herself. "Let them guess, they'll make up what they want to believe."   
Then she did something she hadn't done in six years: she came up to her son, ruffled his hair, and hugged him. "You'll be so good," she repeated. "I just know it." She wiped her eyes. "I'm proud of you."   
"I haven't exactly been practicing, you know," he admitted. "I mean, I've read all your books, of course, but I haven't been on a broomstick in ages--"   
"There will be students from muggle families who don't even know you _can_ ride a broomstick," she promised.   
They laughed again. His whole existence was so tied to the wizard world that Remus had never thought about what it would be like to be raised a muggle.   
"And you know," she said solemnly, returning to her potion so she wouldn't have to look at him, "developing your powers will help you fight your own—darkness, I'm sure of it. You could even… oh, I don't know, find a cure or something. Although you'd have to be a better potion-brewer than I am," she added with a laugh, indicating the fungi. "I can't even keep slugs out of the garden."   
Remus grew thoughtful. "You want _Amanita calyptrata _for that, don't you?" he suggested. "Those are _ocreata."_   
"They are?"   
"Yes, see the way the caps are smooth? They should be striated. I mean, I think so." He jumped up to get the book.   
She put down her pestle and stepped into a pair of shoes. "Would you like to go for a walk in the forest, then? I'll show you where I picked them. We still have an hour or so of daylight."   
"Sure," Remus agreed, knowing she wanted to talk about Hogwarts but afraid of becoming too excited. He hadn't even spoken to Dumbledore yet; some part of him feared the headmaster was more than slightly mad.   
"If it gets dark when we're out, we can find some _Armillariella_ and I'll try a luminosity potion," she suggested. "You can make any object glow in the dark. Last time it didn't work; but you know, I was terrible in that class. Mainly because Potions is always taught by a Slytherin…"   
He listened as they walked, saying very little but enchanted by tales of the Houses, Hagrid the gamekeeper, the castle, and even Diagon alley which he'd visited once or twice before but didn't remember. She wouldn't tell how the Sorting worked: it was supposed to be a "delightful surprise" which, knowing his mum, could mean being chased over the grounds by a two-headed troll while riding a hippogriff blindfolded.   
"We can go to London as soon as school's out and get all your stuff," she promised. "Let me tell you about Ollivander's…"   
But he'd stopped listening. End of term was three and a half weeks—waxing gibbous again. "Er, maybe the week after that," he suggested, very quietly.   
"Oh. Yes." She tried, but failed utterly, to hide the shock and (yes) disgust on her face.   
The gulf widened between them again, and neither spoke as they went into the forest to hunt mushrooms. 

____________ 

Diana Lupin stood shivering in her muggle clothes at Platform 9 ("jeans"! what a terrible idea), watching the first students pop through the barrier for their Christmas vacation. Instinctively her eyes were drawn to the solitary children, the ones looking at their feet and hurrying to rejoin their parents. One boy was sobbing disconsolately, poor thing--she saw immediately why: his owl was lying stiff and dead in its cage. He'd probably been carrying it around like that for a week, too; it smelled. There was another boy who was covered head to toe in a thick green slime, but he was a tubby blond boy, definitely not her son.   
She didn't even see the laughing, chattering trio until they almost plowed into her.   
"Oh, geez--" Remus was giggling at something his companions were saying, still listening to them as he handed packages to his mom. "The box is a gift for you," he said at last, "and here-- carry Mousebreath, will you?" He handed her the owl. "I'll get the trunk. Mum, this is Sirius."   
"What is?" she asked, slightly alarmed.   
The tall boy in front of her laughed. "_I _am. Sirius Black, hi. This is James Potter. We're all in Gryffindor together."   
There was something rather canine about this tall shaggy boy, she thought. It was easy to picture him as a huge black dog... but no, that wasn't fair. He was human and he seemed to be friends with Remus. "Funny," she commented. "Your dad and I were both Ravenclaws. Perhaps you're braver than I..."   
"Or less clever," Sirius suggested.   
She winced automatically, but although it was only three days until the full moon, her son didn't so much as growl but merely grinned. "Less clever?" he exclaimed. "Gee, Sirius, I thought that breadbox was supposed to turn into a rabbit... not a pair of _bunny slippers!"_   
Sirius looked mildly embarrassed. "I told you, Severus jinxed me to get me back for the scabies! Besides, do you know what _your_ worst subject is?"   
"What?" Remus demanded.   
"Defense Against the _Dork_ Arts!" Sirius exclaimed, cackling.   
"Speaking of which," James wondered innocently, "where _is_ Peter?"   
"Hey!" Remus scolded. "That's so mean. I don't know--Peter!" he looked around. "Peter!"   
Green-Slime Boy dragged himself over, clearly fighting tears. "Oh--oh hi, guys. The Slytherins--"   
The other three automatically put their hands on their belts, then realized they were in their muggle clothes and laughed.   
"We'll get them in January," James promised. "I already have a plan."   
Diana took her wand from the back pocket of her jeans and de-slimed Peter. She realized that the other boys' eyes were boring into her; too late, she remembered she was supposed to be deathly ill. Should've taken a Pox Potion or something, she thought. She looked at her son to see if she was making some terrible mistake, but he looked carefree and cheerful, stuffing loose objects into his trunk in preparation for the walk to their muggle train. "It was nice to meet you all," she said warmly, "but we have to run to Platform 3. I'll see you again, I'm sure."   
"Come for Christmas or New Year's if you can," James told Remus. "We're having a huge party." He glanced at Diana with curiosity, but not the searing penetrating gaze that Sirius had. This one has more manners, she thought, and he doesn't remind me of a dog.   
Amazingly, once they were settled into their compartment on the train that would carry them to their village, Remus' cheerful mood continued. Diana couldn't believe it, especially as the sun set and the moon, clearly nearly full, rose in the east. Was there going to be an eclipse?   
He told her about everything that had happened, from the Sorting ("You scared me! It was just a hat!") to their classes and professors and having detention with Sirius five times. He talked more in two hours than he had in all of the past six years.   
"And then--" he paused in the middle of a story he was telling. "And then we--" he yawned. "Oh. Geez. Where was I?"   
"Er, James wants to be Seeker?" she guessed, only half paying attention to the story's content, so amazed by the difference a single term had made.   
"Right, and when he went to try out, the Snitch--" he yawned again and lay down on the seat. When she brought a blanket and lay it over him, he mumbled, "Then let me tell you--" and was completely asleep.   
Diana looked out the window: at the sky, the stars, the moon that she had learned to fear and loathe... And then back at her son, who was sound asleep with a smile on his face.   
Her cub had found his pack at last. 


	2. It Gives One Paws

_This part was hard to write. I hope it's worthy of the first part (thank you all for your reviews!) It comes with a depression warning, but a promise that the third part will be _entirely angst-free!_(just hope I finish it before exams start). Much speculation about the Animagus transformation follows. You are all free to disagree with it. (Note in case anyone doesn't know: "fewmets" are dragon dung. I figured James had seen more dragons than bulls :-))._

**Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling (except some random names, cousin Perseus, and Chewy--who I made up because I'm sure Mrs. Norris isn't 20 years old).**   


##  Cub Scout 2: It Gives One Paws

Sirius shifted in his chair, waiting impatiently for James to finish his essay. He'd been done with everything for an hour. In the beginning they had raced to see who could do homework the fastest, the way they competed at everything: but their styles were too different for this to last long, and now, in the beginning of their second year, they had given up. James actually cared about things like spelling and penmanship, while Sirius was content as long as he had the right answer. He was also impatient, restless, his mind leaping from topic to topic with unpredictable suddenness. 

"You know," he said in a low voice, and not just because they were in the library, "when I first saw him on the train, I thought he might be a ghost." 

James smiled, beginning his closing paragraph. "Yes, he does kind of have that air," he admitted. "But he's quite solid," he added hastily, too polite to speculate about his friends. 

Sirius would not be deterred. "Maybe a vampire," he suggested. 

James sighed. "Sirius, I believe Remus enjoys the sunshine as much as you and I." 

Sirius had to admit this was true; but the thought of the sun quickly led his train of thought towards other celestial bodies. "OK, I've got it," he said, laughing. "A werewolf! He disappears at night, right? He's always looking at the moon, right?" 

This time James had had enough. He lay down his quill and looked sternly at his friend. "Sirius, be serious. He's a homesick boy whose mum is dying. Doesn't that mean anything to you?" 

"Sure it does." Sirius looked contrite, for all of ten seconds. "…But why is she always dying at the full moon?"   


It was meant to be a joke, but once he got the idea in his head, Sirius couldn't get rid of it. After all, simple experiments told him that Remus wasn't a ghost or a vampire… the one simple experiment that would tell him he wasn't a werewolf—seeing him at the full moon—never seemed to happen. He didn't tell James about his growing preoccupation, but he did a few small things that neither James nor Remus himself could fail to notice. 

First he took to glancing at the enchanted ceiling every time Remus did, commenting on the phase of the moon, and calling his friend "Moony." Remus retaliated by becoming quite an astronomer, so when Sirius caught him staring at the sky, he'd say something like, "Orion lies right along the celestial equator, see? You can tell your latitude from its position." Soon all three of them had stopped wearing watches, priding themselves at being able to tell time and season from a quick look at the sky. Remus deliberately ignored the nickname, only once muttering something about it being "worse than Dog Boy." 

Then there was the Transparency Potion. James wanted to catalog all of the ingredients Professor Zabini kept in the locked dungeon behind the Potions classroom. He'd been wracking his brain for the best way to do this: should he get Sirius to distract him, and run in? (not enough time); or sneak in at night? (the doors were rumored to be jinxed in unknown ways); or play around with X-ray vision? (too dangerous). Finally he decided to splash the wall with a concoction that would make it transparent for at least ten minutes, long enough for him to know what forbidden ingredients he could obtain when necessary. 

He and Sirius let Remus into the plan. Then Sirius had an idea. 

"Hey," he said casually, "we don't have to steal the mugwort, we can pick it by the lake. Do you mind doing that, Remus?" 

As he had hoped, Remus hadn't read the instructions. "No, not at all," he replied. 

"OK," said Sirius with professional calm. "It has to be harvested at the full moon—but that's the day after tomorrow, isn't it?" 

Remus showed no emotion. "Is it? All right." 

"I'll come with you, if you'd like." 

"No, that's OK. I can manage." 

And he did it. Sometime that night he came in, prodded the sleeping Sirius, and said, "I've got it. I'll put it under my bed, it's in a bucket." 

"Mmmm…" Sirius groaned sleepily. "You were gone a long time. What time is it?" 

"About midnight," Remus replied. "Say, I'm going off to visit Pomfrey, I think I caught some poison ivy." 

He was out sick the rest of the day, but the fact was that he had brought the mugwort. Sirius wasn't sure what to think. He should have followed him. He should have checked the time when he was shaken awake—it could have been past dawn. It wasn't conclusive. 

Then James, quite accidentally, found out that Remus hadn't picked the mugwort himself. He'd gotten that fat little Peter Pettigrew to do it, the one who was always trailing after the Slytherins like a baby duck and then running to Remus after they turned him green. 

Peter slapped his hand over his mouth. "Oh! I wasn't supposed to tell!" 

"What?" Sirius asked, quickly. 

"Well, I mean… Remus was trying to play a joke on you guys, right? That's why he needed mugwort…" He looked confused when they looked confused. "That's what he told me," Peter protested. "I don't know what kind of joke. He just told me to leave the mugwort in a bucket by the base of the Whomping Willow."   


"All right, Sirius," said James soberly. They had picked a very quiet area of the grounds so as to be able to spot potential eavesdroppers from a mile off. "Your suspicions may not be completely crazy." 

"I told you, I told you," Sirius cried. "He was always so strange. The way he eats: ten pounds of meat a day, but only for one week a month. And that time in Herbology--" 

"—when we studied wolfsbane, he stopped outside the door and then ran off claiming to have forgotten something," James agreed quietly. "Yes, I remember." 

"I almost took a sprig of it to try later, but I was thinking about that business with the unicorn and I forgot. And he's so touchy! The nicest boy on earth when the moon is new—but then today, when I asked him something, he _growled_ at me." 

"But still, I can't believe that one of my friends…" James didn't finish the thought. "Or that Dumbledore…" He didn't finish that one either. "When's the next full moon?" 

"Tomorrow." Sirius widened his eyes, expecting a plan. 

James refused to take the bait. "Well, don't do anything stupid."   


Sirius did something stupid. 

"Hey, Remus," he whispered at the end of Potions the next day, as they emerged from the dungeons into the first-floor corridor. "I have something to show you." 

With a very practiced gesture that was almost imperceptible, Remus looked out the window. The late-autumn sun hung pale and shrouded in the western sky. "Yes, yes…" he murmured. "I'm not feeling so well. Some other time…" 

"Five minutes," Sirius vowed. He looked outside himself, though less surreptitiously. "It won't be dark for twenty-seven minutes." 

"But…" Remus stopped himself. 

"Come on," Sirius led the way up one of the many set of stairs to the third floor. "Let's go." He strode along at a manic rate until finally coming to a halt outside an empty classroom, where there was a statue of a one-eyed humpbacked witch. "Look! It's a secret passageway." Saying "Dissendium," he tapped the statue and an opening appeared. 

Remus took a few steps backward. The sun wouldn't set for twenty-five minutes, but the moon would rise thirteen minutes before that. He should've skipped Potions… and risked failing for sure. 

He leapt two feet in the air when Sirius grabbed him. 

"Come look!" Sirius implored. "Two minutes—I promise." 

Remus followed. There was so little of the human left in his mind that it could barely register a hint of shame at the beast's gloating: you're going to be alone! With a person! At moonrise! 

_I shouldn't go with him,_ he tried to think. 

Idiot! said the monster, though not in words but in barks and growls. Your first prey. Six years and you've never bitten anyone. Failure! 

Remus backed up against the wall, staying as far from his friend as possible. 

Sirius regarded him with interest. "The moon will be full tonight," he commented. 

"I know," Remus admitted brazenly, with a small hope that his tone would frighten Sirius away. 

"So… so I thought we could go into Hogsmeade and hear the ghost. You know the Shrieking Shack only shrieks when the moon is full. This tunnel leads straight into the cellar of Honeydukes!" 

Remus stared at him with undisguised horror. _He doesn't know! _the monster rejoiced. You've got him! 

"You know," Sirius remarked casually, as if just noticing, "you never seem to be around when there's a full moon. It's a little funny. And getting Peter to pick your mugwort…" 

"If you suspect—what I think you suspect--" 

"Then this is a superlatively stupid thing to do," Sirius laughed. "Come on, let's go." 

Remus stayed pressed against the wall, trying something he never had: through the growls and hisses and yelps that were filling his brain, he searched for the tiny human voice. _This is Sirius Black, your friend, _he told himself. 

The beast backed off, just a little. It was skeptical of a human friend, but pack animals understood the concept. 

Remus took a deep breath. Maybe it would be easier than he had thought. What he was trying to do certainly wasn't in the _Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2,_ but his months of concentrating on needles and shrivelfigs had given him a new self-discipline. Sirius is your friend, he repeated silently. If you don't do something, _he will die._

"Sirius," he managed in a strangled voice, "run." 

Sirius had been heading down the corridor, but now he turned around, eyebrows raised in surprise. He clearly hadn't expected his suspicions to be anything but his own overactive imagination—but still he didn't run. He watched his friend intently, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. 

Remus reached for his wand. It wasn't there. 

Sirius saw the gesture and held it up, laughing. He was the fastest duelist around, and yet somehow enjoyed filching things like a common muggle pickpocket. 

The fool! the monster gloated. Conspiring in his own death! 

"Sirius, I…" It'll tear me to shreds, Remus thought. Then he smiled a bit: it couldn't kill him. That would only be killing itself, too. There wasn't anything it could do, at least not for the next ten minutes. "Do you know how to conjure a box, or a cage, a wall—something--?" 

Sirius looked at his wand. "Well, I think maybe--" 

"GIVE ME MY WAND NOW," Remus commanded, feeling his control slip with every passing moment. 

Sirius reluctantly handed it back. "Don't go away, all right? I mean, if I was right, and all… I really want to see." 

Remus wasn't listening. He wasn't so sure how to do this spell himself—though he had practiced it a couple of times. He held his wand in front of him, said "Arca"— and was suddenly sitting inside a translucent box about twice his size. He went and sat in one corner, feeling like an animal in the zoo as Sirius followed, gaping. 

It helped a lot not to be able to see him clearly, or to smell him. "The cage will only stay strong as long as I… want it to," he said. "Then it will start to weaken." 

"I have to know," Sirius babbled. If he was afraid, he had a very strange way of showing it. "I have to see. I'm sorry, but I can't believe it and the curiosity is killing me. I mean, honestly, if I'd asked, you would have lied, right? And I have to know…" 

It wouldn't be long now. "If I catch you…" Remus began, and gulped. "Try to tie my jaws closed. Once they're closed I won't be able to open them again." 

Sirius grinned. Ropes and cords were one of the first spells he'd learned. He wasn't even scared. "We never learn things like that in Defense Against the Dark Arts," he exclaimed. 

Remus told himself he wouldn't scream in front of his friend, but it was a physical impossibility. It wasn't just the pain that made him scream, but the way his lungs and vocal cords were changing and stretching, and the fury of the monster that had been betrayed when it had scented prey at last… The whole process took somewhere between one and five minutes, he couldn't pin it down more accurately than that. Then the werewolf leapt for the walls of the cage, crashing against them in his fury and too impatient to wait for them to dissolve on their own. 

Sirius ran.   
  


The werewolf figured out very quickly that he was much too large to fit through the witch statue. He gave up on Sirius and went tearing along the earthen floor and then up the stairs to the entrance to Honeydukes. After only a couple of tries, he managed to sit up on his hind legs and shove the trapdoor open with his face. He sat back down for a second, panting with the effort—and then lunged for the opening, his head and forepaws in the cellar. It wasn't a very comfortable position, and it was a very tight fit. Could he make it? He sat back down again, considering the situation. Then, with a tremendous leap, he got his head into the trapdoor and all four feet braced against the sides. Snapping and growling, he tried to squeeze his enormous shoulders through the small hole—but his claws slipped on the wood and he fell. 

He rolled down twenty-five or fifty of the hundreds of stairs (he wasn't very good at counting), then got up for another try. One of his back paws hurt and he licked at it, furious at being delayed.   
This time, when he was halfway through the trapdoor, a light appeared somewhere above the cellar, and he heard voices. 

"What is that unearthly yowling, Hecate?" 

"Ghosts, I imagine. We really must speak to the headmaster of the school; he seems to know something about the spirits that have moved into town lately." 

The werewolf grew quiet, licking his lips. He waited, as silently as he could, only his muzzle protruding into the cellar. 

"It was fine when they stuck to the shack, but I don't want them driving away customers. I'm going downstairs; I'm not afraid of any ghosts." 

"No, Orpheus, don't--" the woman's voice stopped him. 

Down in the cellar, Remus' back legs were growing very tired. He nearly howled in disappointment—like a very small child, the werewolf had a short attention span, and each minute felt like an hour. The only thing that kept him in that miserable cramped position, balancing on the top step and clinging to the entrance with his claws, was the sound and smell of unsuspecting victims. 

"Why not?" the man wondered. "What can a disembodied spirit do to me?" 

"You don't even have your wand." She sounded relieved. "Come on, let's go to bed and I'll speak with Albus Dumbledore in the morning." 

As they turned to leave Remus did howl, the loudest, most anguished howl of his life. He heard them leave; he heard their voices, quavering with fear as they speculated about the noise. Most of all, he smelled them, and knew they were leaving and weren't coming back. He howled again and chewed at the trapdoor in a fury until he was too tired to do anything but drop back down onto the stairs. 

Twice there had been people within his reach tonight, and twice he had failed. Someone was going to pay for this.   
  


I'm thirsty, was the first thought he had when he was human again. He sat up slowly—he was at the base of a long staircase, and his left ankle was sprained, or maybe broken, he couldn't tell. And his robes were covered with blood; he felt a stab of fear that maybe it was not all his own. Usually he could remember, at least about things like that, but he was in pretty bad shape at the moment. He bit his lip as he tried to stand, then gave up—definitely broken. 

I can crawl back to the castle on all fours, he thought with some irony. He turned over onto his hands and knees to try, but he was so tired and so thirsty he thought he just might rest a bit instead. He put his head down on his arms and slept, dreaming of cascading falls, tall glasses of pumpkin juice, and one of his very earliest memories: his mother magically squeezing lemons into a pitcher, the seeds skittering away into the garbage, the sugar and ice cubes measuring themselves at just the right amounts…   


"Where did you say you saw him last?" 

"At the other end, by the castle. Oh Lord, I hope he didn't get out." 

"If this is a joke, Sirius--" 

"I wouldn't do that--well anyway, not this time …Hey, is that him?" 

"Where?" 

"By the stairs." 

"We must have missed him last time. He looks asleep. No, don't move him, you might hurt him." 

"What are you going to—oh, that's cool. I've never conjured a stretcher before. Can you get him on it?" 

"I think so… Wait…" 

"Don't drop him, James! I'm going to wake him up." 

Remus heard the voices but didn't open his eyes until Sirius tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, old buddy—are you all right?" 

He was so ashamed he was ready to get up and run, forgetting he was hurt. "Yes, of course," he said weakly. "Are you?" 

"Don't worry about me. I'm an inconsiderate jerk—right, James? Can you stand up to get on the stretcher, we'll pull you back to the castle, I don't trust James to levitate you--" 

In his haste to have this over with so he'd never see these people again, Remus stood directly onto his broken ankle and yelped. 

"What happened?" Sirius demanded, with a guilty look at James who, no doubt, had told him so. 

"Fell downstairs, I think. It's nothing." Realizing he'd never make it to the castle on his own, Remus collapsed on the stretcher and let his two former friends pull it all the way down the passageway and out through the statue of the humpbacked witch. 

Madam Pomfrey was practically in hysterics. Sitting with her, looking only slightly less concerned, was Headmaster Dumbledore. 

"My fault," Sirius said, before anyone could say anything. "Will he be OK?" 

She pounced on the stretcher, then on Sirius, then James, checking them all for imagined horrors. 

"We're fine," James insisted. "But Remus… we've been looking for him since dawn. We found him passed out and… and all covered with blood and everything." 

Madam Pomfrey went to scold Remus, but Sirius stopped her. "It's all my fault. I did it, blame me. Just make him better, OK?" He turned to look at Dumbledore. 

"I think you two had better come with me," said the headmaster.   
  


Even in the privacy of the headmaster's office, Sirius felt as if he had to whisper. "I've suspected for… I don't know, a long time. I mean, I thought it was just one of my silly ideas, I never actually believed it. So I thought I'd play a prank on him, and…" Looking at the old portraits, who fortunately kept dozing and didn't look back, he told the entire story. 

Dumbledore listened, and seemed quietly resigned rather than surprised. "How many others have you told about this?" he asked, finally. 

"I didn't tell anyone!" Sirius exclaimed. "Well, besides James, I mean. But James…" 

"…is just an extension of your overheated brain," James finished dryly. 

"Did you know what he was planning last night?" Dumbledore inquired. 

"No!" cried Sirius. "It's all my fault! As I said, I didn't believe it. I thought we'd just end up running around the castle together." Even caught and in trouble, he didn't want to say exactly where they'd been and spoil the secret. "I didn't mean any harm," he added, quietly, like a little boy who's killed a bird with his slingshot. 

The headmaster frowned slightly. "He agreed to go with you?" he wondered in a mild tone, betraying nothing. 

"I practically dragged him!" Sirius exclaimed. Finally, for the first time, a hint of fear appeared on his face as he realized what Dumbledore was suggesting. "But… but he kept trying to protect me," he stammered. "He told me how to defend myself. And…" 

It wasn't clear to the two students if Dumbledore was surprised or relieved, but he was certainly pleased. "Mr. Lupin has the potential to be a great wizard one of these days," he commented. 

"Of course he does," Sirius exclaimed in honest surprise. 

"What do you…" Dumbledore paused, then looked at each of them in turn. "What do you boys think about him continuing to be a student here?" 

"What?" cried James. 

"You're thinking of expelling _Remus?" _howled Sirius. "But I keep saying, it's MY FAULT. I even took his wand. You couldn't, you wouldn't--" 

"If parents complain, if students leave the school, or if, God forbid, he hurts someone—I shall have no choice." 

Sirius looked subdued. "I don't understand. I didn't believe it, that's why I had to see. They taught us in Defense Against the Dark Arts that they're always bloodthirsty monsters…" His voice trailed off as he remembered how Remus had been especially cynical and sarcastic after that lesson. He'd called Sirius and James "fools who believe the lies they're fed"-- and that was one of his milder statements. 

"And there are _laws,"_ James added. Again, they had learned all this from Remus: cloaked in a sea of other information, sometimes disguised as a metaphor—but still, why hadn't they seen it? "They're not allowed to work for the Ministry. Or be buried in graveyards. Or even get married," he remembered as if that scarcely mattered, since no one in their right mind would ever want to do _that._ James still hated girls—not least because they had started following him around. 

"I am one of the few opposed to such laws," the headmaster told them. "And it is ones like Remus who will lead to them being changed." 

Sirius knew Dumbledore meant well, but he still couldn't help wincing at the fact that he said "ones" and not "people." No wonder Remus was touchy! I will treat him normally or I will slime myself, Sirius promised silently. "And people like me, too," he said, "and James. I want to work for the Ministry when I'm out of school…" 

"Remus is a great person and a fine wizard," James added seriously. "I thought… I mean, I had him in mind when I started `no prejudice in Gryffindor.' I knew he was different, in some way, but I wasn't sure how. Is he the very first one…?" 

"At Hogwarts? yes." 

"Well," laughed Sirius, always disturbed by too much solemnity, "if you admit any more, you'll have to start keeping flocks of sheep on the grounds! So, uh… we agree it's my fault, right? What's my punishment?" 

Dumbledore regarded him carefully; Sirius tried not to look too anxious. "Why don't you go see if your friend will accept an apology," said the headmaster. "I feel certain that he will." 

"But--" Sirius hesitated as Dumbledore turned his attention away from them and towards a piece of parchment on his desk. When James prodded him in the back and got up to leave, Sirius finally followed, looking very confused.   


No amount of wheedling would convince Madam Pomfrey to let them wake Remus up, so they had to wait until after classes the next day. They brought a pile of sweets and all his homework, innocently proclaiming that they were only concerned with his grades. 

He was asleep but they shouted in his ear. "Hey, are you all right?" Sirius wanted to know. "When do you get to leave?" 

Remus flinched a bit at the sight of his friends, and gave Sirius a very odd look. "When my mum comes to get me, I suppose," he murmured, staring at the pillow and not facing them. 

Sirius was so surprised he almost couldn't speak. "Bonehead!" he yelled finally. "I meant leave the _infirmary! _ You're not leaving Hogwarts. There is no way." 

"I doubt that I have much choice," said Remus in a very small voice. "I almost killed you, Sirius." 

"_I_ almost killed _you!"_ Sirius bellowed, leaping up. "Won't anyone believe it's my fault… or even give me detention…" 

"That could be arranged," Madam Pomfrey menaced, "if you don't lower your voice in this hospital." 

Sirius sat back down, trying to calm himself. 

"You didn't do anything wrong," Remus told him. "This is not your fault. It happens every month." And if it was especially bad this time, he thought grimly, it's because I was furious at myself for letting you escape. 

"I didn't know--" Sirius stammered, looking at James for help. "I didn't think--" 

"Obviously not," James muttered. 

Sirius glared at him, then patted Remus gingerly on the shoulder, not wanting to hurt him. "Moony, old pal, you've got to stay. Who else around here dares to call James an idiot?" 

"James isn't an idiot," Remus replied, tired and sad. "I'm just jealous because—because I'm not even human." 

"Hey," James scolded. "You know I don't listen to that sort of nonsense from anyone, and you're no exception." He was trying hard, but there was a slight false note to his voice that Remus couldn't fail to miss. 

"All right, he's an idiot." Remus sighed. "But so am I." 

"You're not making sense," James declared after a moment's thought. "You've been telling us all year that it's the people who hate and fear you who are the monsters, the true evil. Now you're trying to say that no, you're evil. Which is it?" 

Remus was much too tired for philosophical arguments. "Both," he said simply. 

"That's a load of fewmets," snapped James. "You refuse to believe that anyone is on your side. Well, we _are_ on your side—and you're not leaving." 

"If you leave," Sirius threatened, "I'll tell." 

"Sirius!" James whirled on him. 

"Well!" Sirius tried to defend himself. "If he leaves, there's no point in keeping it secret, right--" 

"But you can't threaten people. It's wrong." 

They all grew quiet. This little argument had made Remus realize something. "But you mean…" he whispered. "You mean not everyone knows?" he asked quickly, scarcely daring to hope. "I would have thought, the noise… the howls…" 

James shrugged. "I didn't hear too much. I thought there might be a ghost loose, maybe the ghost from the Shr--" He stopped, suddenly, and exchanged a look with Sirius. It had just hit them both that the ghost from the Shrieking Shack might be no ghost at all. "Anyhow," he added quickly, "no one knows but us. And on our way out of there, I erased the paw prints." 

"And wiped up the blood and slobber," Sirius added with glee, as if the thought that his little friend could produce that much drool amused him. 

"We can keep a secret better than anyone else in the universe," James declared, and he and Sirius chuckled at some private joke. "You're better off that we do know—we can make up all sorts of stories." 

"`Oh yeah, Remus and I ran around Hogsmeade last night, looking for the ghost,'" Sirius mocked himself. "`We had a great time.'" 

Remus was still staring at his pillow. "I will not ask you to lie for me," he snapped. 

"It's not as though it's any effort," James laughed. "Sirius hasn't told the truth since--" 

"—May 4th, 1966. Ah, I remember it well. Here." He tossed a stack of books and parchment onto the bed. "Shut up and do your homework. We did Cheering Charms today; should I practice on you?" 

"I lost points for my charm being too strong," James grumbled, "but it was just because I did it on _him."_

"Sirius could smile in Azkaban," Remus grumbled without humor. He opened a book and began his homework, still not looking at his friends.   
  


Sirius and James were at a loss for what to do for the next couple of weeks. Remus no longer talked about leaving Hogwarts, but he avoided his friends with a melancholy and self-conscious air—he even failed to intercept a stink curse that Severus hurled at Peter, and Peter had to run off to Madam Pomfrey smelling like something the cat dragged in. 

One night, when the moon was new, James finished his homework and got out the Invisibility Cloak. "Let's do something tonight, guys. It's so dark out. We should at least visit Hagrid and see what happened with the unicorn." 

"Maybe he'll take us into the Three Broomsticks again," Sirius suggested excitedly. "It was so cool the way the bartender didn't even blink at serving ale to someone invisible." 

"Someone who then puked invisible puke and couldn't fly home," James reminded him. "Remus, are you coming along to keep him out of trouble?" 

"No, thank you," Remus replied courteously, his nose in a book. He was always too polite, even slightly formal—someone who read more than he spoke. "I have work to do." 

"You're already ahead of James and me in Charms _and_ Defense Against the Dark Arts," Sirius grumbled. "Quit studying, for a change." 

"Yes, but if I make one more stupid mistake in Potions, I'm doomed." He tried to be lighthearted. "Viper's fangs, urchin spines—who can tell the difference in the dark with gloves on?" 

He wouldn't be convinced, so James and Sirius took the cloak and left the boys' dormitory. 

"Do you think he's mad at me?" Sirius wondered in a whisper as soon as they were out the portrait hole. 

"No…" James replied thoughtfully. "I think he's just embarrassed. He'll get over it." 

"But how come? It was my fault. Why won't anyone believe it was my fault?" Sirius suddenly lowered his voice even more, so that James could barely make out the words. "Unless… that thing Dumbledore said… do you think he _wanted_ to bite me?" 

James sighed. "I don't know, Sirius; why don't you ask him?" 

"No way, he'd kill me for sure. Hey, do you suppose that those books he reads would tell us something? Maybe he's teaching himself spells! Why do you suppose he's years ahead of everyone in Defense Against the Dark Arts!" 

Without needing to discuss it further, the two ducked inside the Cloak and headed for the library. 

They had just entered the Restricted Section and were scanning the titles eagerly when they heard footsteps. 

"Shh!" 

"Where's the Cloak, James?" 

"Over here…" 

They stood in tense silence, crouched under the silky cloth, until a face poked around the nearest shelf and looked right at them. 

It was Remus. "All right," he said. "Sirius, James, or both?" 

"Shhhh…" said two voices. Their heads appeared, floating in midair. 

"You could have told me you were coming here," he said with a wry smile. "I almost got nabbed by Filch." He went to a shelf that he obviously knew well, and pulled down a very large and ancient book. 

"Well, what are _you_ doing here?" James wanted to know. "Is this where you always come when I lend you the Cloak?" 

Remus shrugged. "Not always. A lot of the time." He flipped the book open and began examining a page with interest. Noticing that the others had stopped browsing, he regarded them a bit coldly. "Don't let me interrupt your research," he said. 

James tried to shush him, but Sirius would not be deterred. "We're interested in _you,"_ he admitted eagerly. 

"Sirius--" James warned. 

But Remus didn't seem bothered; he just said "Hmm." Then, after a second, still examining his book, "And you don't trust me to tell the truth, I suppose?" 

"We just didn't want to pester you," James assured hastily. 

"Better that than to act—to act like my mum," said Remus in a very small voice. He replaced his book on the shelf and selected another. 

Sirius came up from behind and peered over his shoulder. "So what are you reading about? Eew—what is that thing?" He extended his hand towards an image of a figure in a black cloak, then jumped as the picture moved, showing a long, scabbed, clawlike hand. Sirius put his hand over his mouth so he wouldn't cry out. "Yuck," he whispered. 

"It's a _dementor,"_ Remus told him cruelly. "A guard of the fortress of Azkaban. They suck every happy memory out of your mind. They leave you with only the horror and the despair and the sadness." 

"It makes me feel cold all over, just seeing the picture." 

James couldn't avoid hearing this conversation, but he wouldn't look at the dementor. "And the cure for exposure to one is chocolate," he said, as if bored. "Why don't you take what you want and we'll go raid the kitchen?" 

"You shouldn't eat while you look at these books," Remus scolded. "They're very rare and fragile. I suppose it was you who got pumpkin on page 103 of _Transfiguration Tragedies?_" 

"Oops," Sirius admitted. "I meant to wipe it off. Listen to you, you sound like a teacher--" he imitated an innocent first-year voice—"`Professor Lupin lets us read anything, as long as we don't get stains on it.'" 

James gestured for the others to join him under the Cloak. Remus carried the dementor book very carefully, the way one would a baby. "Come on, I bet there's cake from dinner, just watch out for Filch. You'd be a very good professor," he commented suddenly as they left the library. "I can just imagine it." 

"That can never be," said Remus in a gloomy voice. "I'm sure I won't live another ten years. Probably none of us will." 

"What?" cried Sirius. Even for Remus this was a bit much. 

"Do you think I study these things to get better grades?" Remus wondered bitterly. He seemed oblivious to the fact that they were in the hallway at night, and that if he was overheard they would all get into trouble. "You know as well as I that there is a Dark Lord in the wizard world. We will fight him because not to to do so is to join him; but we can expect to lose." 

"We're only 12 years old," Sirius objected in a whisper. "And Dumbledore is the most powerful wizard in the world." 

"We won't be 12 forever. The bravest of us will die, and if the cowards live it will be as traitors... Idealists like you are so easily betrayed. Would you really trust James with your life, Sirius? Would you trust _me?"_ He laughed evilly. 

_"Shut up, Remus," _James hissed. 

No one said anything more until they were in the kitchen. James lit some lamps with his wand, then turned towards the stone cupboards that held the food. In the summer everything was kept cold with Chilling Charms, but at this time of year it was only necessary for the ice cream. "Not one more word out of you--" he warned Remus, then disappeared for a second and emerged holding an enormous chocolate cake. "—Until you've had a very large piece of this. That dementor got to you." He shuddered. 

"It didn't get to _me,"_ Sirius bragged. He reached for a piece of cake with one hand, and for the dementor book with the other. "Oooh…" he breathed, looking at the figure again, and prodding it to make its hand move. He slammed it shut. 

Remus sighed, took out his wand, and removed the chocolate frosting from the edges of the pages. 

James wiped his brow with relief. "I thought you'd gone mad out there. It's just a miracle that Filch didn't hear you. Or his nasty little dog." 

Remus gave him an odd smile, eating his cake dutifully. "Chewy is whimpering under a bed somewhere. He won't come out for hours—he's terrified of me." 

Sirius looked up from the book, which he had opened once again--this time to a map of Azkaban. He grinned hugely with fascination. "Really? Are all dogs afraid of you?" 

"I don't know about all." Remus sighed, trying to be patient. The cake wasn't helping his depression, which he was sure was unrelated to a silly picture of a dementor. "The ones I've met, I guess. I tend to avoid them." 

"Is that why you wouldn't come to my house last summer?" Sirius persisted. "You should have said something. Next time I can just send the Cerberus to stay with my grandma. Do animals always know?" He reached for more cake, his eyes on his friend and eagerness spilling out of his voice. 

"Yes, I think so—Sirius, I told you it was OK to ask questions and I guess I meant it, but, come on—stop acting like you think it's _cool."_

"But it _is _kinda cool," Sirius burst out. "I wish I could transform." 

"Not the way I do it," Remus told him shortly. 

"Well, no," he admitted, "but I've always wanted to be an Animagus. My mum is like your mum, it scared her and she wouldn't let me talk about it. I heard over and over about my cousin Perseus who tried it and was stuck a toad." 

"You can be stuck worse things than a toad," Remus told him grimly—but then he smiled. "I suppose you know that, it's on page 103. A toad with a man's leg; what good is that?" 

"It's easy enough to become an animal, so I've heard," James added. "The hard part is going back." 

"And you don't get to choose what animal you become," Remus continued. "It's part personality, part preoccupation, and a whole bunch of unknown factors." 

"If you're _very _good, you can at least get the general size and shape," Sirius argued. "And I don't suppose it matters too much, anyway, right? Moony, if I wanted to transform when you did—would it be dangerous if I were a rabbit or a yippy little dog like Chewy? Would you have me for hors d'oeuvres?" 

"Of course not," Remus told him with a hint of pride. "I can control myself better than that." He realized the implications and was solemn. "But you're not going to try something like that. It's illegal, and unlike many other things, for good reason." 

"If I got stuck you could keep me as a pet," Sirius suggested. 

"Professor McGonagall was just registered as the seventh Animagus of the century," James said suddenly, interrupting before Sirius could describe what a great pet toad he'd make. 

"Yes, I know--" Remus began, then stopped, embarrassed. But there was no way the others were going to let him hide information. "OK," he sighed, as Sirius and James gazed at him eagerly, "I asked her about it once, when I had detention. She loves to talk about it, and well—you know, I didn't want to ask in class." He rolled his eyes. "She didn't say how she did it, though. I just wanted to know how her mind worked when she was a cat, did it sometimes take over…?" 

"…Did she chase mice?" Sirius continued. "So—does she?" 

"Sometimes," Remus admitted, and they all laughed. He was going to try to change the subject, because he really didn't like its direction, but Sirius was too quick for him. 

"And how about you?" he demanded. He appeared to be memorizing the map of the fortress of Azkaban; maybe he'd taken Remus' warnings to heart. 

Remus blinked slowly a couple of times, looking at the table. 

"Don't answer that if you don't want to," James put in kindly. "I swear, he must've learned his manners from cousin Perseus." 

"It's OK," Remus said slowly. "McGonagall asked, too. I'm always part animal," he admitted, in an odd voice as if not sure of his answer. "I'm sure you've noticed. Less tonight than at any other time... It will get stronger over the next two weeks, until..." 

"It's not like that's necessarily bad," Sirius assured. "Animals are better than people in some ways." 

Remus glanced at him and then back at the table. "Real animals, yes, but what I am... There are parts of it I like," he admitted finally, with another look at his friends too see if this would scare them. Of course it didn't. "I'll be braver and more fun next week than I am now, and more--adventurous, I guess. But I don't like the... the violent thoughts." 

Now it was Sirius' turn to be slightly hesitant. "So down there in the corridor, when you told me to run--" 

"--It was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life." Remus seemed relieved but at the same time resigned, like someone confessing to a murder he'd committed twenty years before. He wouldn't look anywhere in the others' direction. 

"Well." Sirius covered his confusion by flipping through the scary book. "I couldn't tell that then. I mean, you did a good job." 

"And it'll only get easier, right?" James wanted to know. "That's why you're a wizard. It was hard to turn a matchstick into a needle the first time, and now you can turn a raven into a writing-desk." 

Remus shrugged, looking somewhat astounded that the other two had not run screaming. "I don't know much more than you do. Believe me, there aren't any books on the subject." He tried to laugh. "That's the thing that would scare me the most about the Animagus transformation: you could lose your mind entirely, forget what you'd been or how to come back, and--and I think if that happens, there's nothing anyone can do to rescue you." 

Sirius was silent for a moment. "It gives one pause," he said--then burst out laughing. "Sorry. But really! If I _were_ a toad, I'd rather be a happy mindless toad than always regret being stuck!" 

"Not me." Remus shuddered. "Sirius, if you want to do it right, then maybe, when you're McGonagall's age--" 

Sirius snorted derisively. "When I'm her age I'll do nothing but sit by the fire and purr." 

"Or the toad equivalent," James reminded him. 

For the first time since they found out his secret, Remus gave them both an honest, open smile. "I appreciate the thought, guys," he said, hiding his sincerety under a slightly sarcastic tone. He picked up his horrible dementor book as James started to clear the table and put out the candles, and they all got under the Cloak for the return trip to Gryffindor tower. "But I couldn't live with your eternal toad-hood on my conscience."   
  


James threw down the tenth book in his stack with a thump. He was starting to get a headache. "They don't tell you anything!" he grumbled. 

"Yeah..." Sirius was deeply absorbed in the first book he'd picked up, _Transfiguration Tragedies._ "Eeew, look at this one..." 

"Fine, but they don't tell you how to prevent it! It's just a bunch of gnarly pictures." 

Sirius didn't see anything wrong with that. "Oooh, and _this _one! Yuck," he said approvingly. 

James plopped his feet onto the desk of the empty classroom and put his hands behind his head, thinking. "What we want isn't in the Hogwarts library," he decided. "We're going to have to go all over Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley to find any information, and we'll probably have to take a qualified wizard along, since they won't sell that kind of thing to us. And what if getting stuck runs in families?" 

"He was just my cousin." He flipped a page. "I'm not scared; are you?" 

The door burst open before James could respond, and Remus dashed into the room, panting. "I've been running all over the castle looking for you guys! Finally I heard thumping..." He put his hands on his hips and glared at them. "Don't think you can hide what you're doing from me. The entire third shelf of the Restricted Section is empty. I'm just glad I found _you,_ and not a pair of slugs." He looked at James, who was still deep in thought. "You aren't really--" 

James turned and looked at his friend, tiny pale Remus who was trying so hard to look indignant, but whose eyes sparkled with mischief and even joy. "We are taking this very seriously." He was interrupted by a guffaw as Sirius discovered he could get the picture of the headless crow to walk. "Well, _I_ am, at least. Remus, er... if you asked your mum to buy some books for us, do you think she'd do it?" 

"Yes, of course she would, I can't see why not..." He tried to be stern again. "Well, if I can't change your minds, I can at least try to make sure you do it right! There are ways to reverse a lot of those tragedies you're looking at, Sirius--if you get them in time, if you're prepared."   
  
"Well, then." James took his feet of the desk and stood up, taking authority. "Remus, why don't you be in charge of that part? Sirius and I will figure out how to do it; you work on how to save us if something goes wrong. We won't practice without you." 

Remus stood in the middle of the room, trying to be solemn and not to smile. He admired and respected both of his friends for their intelligence, courage, and ambition--and of course he would be Undead before he'd tell them so. "Pinheads," he said, and it was so far from the truth that it wasn't even an insult. "Just don't try to take any shortcuts, OK? And are you sure... I mean, really, you're not doing this for _me _or anything, right?" 

"Oh, of course not," Sirius replied casually. "It's something I've always wanted. _Ouch,_ look at _that."_

"It's an intellectual challenge," added James. 

Remus was finally starting to let himself believe it. "McGonagall has some stuff on her shelf I could try to steal, to begin with," he said thoughtfully. 

"Good!" James laughed. "You can ask her all sorts of questions, too. Just don't mention us." 

"See, Moony," Sirius looked up from the freaky pictures at last. "Your voice of reason more than makes up for the 3.45% of the time that you're dangerous. See what you're saving me from!" He held up a picture of a squiggly rat's tail, squirming on its own. 

Remus didn't have to calculate to know that 3.45% was 1 in 29. "Stop looking at that," he advised dryly. "If I were you I'd get a nice big book on Golden Retrievers or something, and start concentrating. I'll still be your friend if you're a Pekingnese--but I won't play Frisbee with you." 

_____________   
  



	3. Defense Against the Dork Arts

**Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all the characters and would no doubt slap me silly if she saw this.**

_OK (deep breath, buttons flame-proof vest): this is my first attempt to do James and Lily. I am rather, er, unromantic (say it, a nerd!) and so this was very hard. Thanks so much to beta readers Katie Bell (who found a chronological error) and CLS (who challenged me to show her that James and Lily were really in love). Part 4, where they _finally _get to become animals, will come very soon, but I would really appreciate input about what you all think of my version of Lily!___

_Brief notes: (1) This occurs before the Snape/Whomping Willow episode; (2) "dixi" is Latin for "I have spoken" :-); (3) the PG is for mild language and even milder Lily&James naughtiness (I'm so hopeless, I can't write love--can anyone help??); (4) A Hedley Kow is a "real" spirit that is much like JKR's Boggart, though not as scary_   
  


##  Cub Scout Part 3: Defense Against the Dork Arts

The Animagus project was delayed a bit because in their fifth year, James Potter suddenly stopped hating girls. He still ducked when giggling clumps of Hufflepuffs or Ravenclaws accosted him in the halls; and he still pulled away with an embarrassed cough when he was smothered with hugs after every Quidditch victory. The girls who interested him were the ones who looked down their noses at the Gryffindor Seeker, and who would sneer rather than cheer as James and company reaped every academic award. 

His speeches about universal tolerance suddenly began to seem just a bit comical, as he appeared sitting by the lake, studying in the library, or flying through the air with Slytherin after Slytherin. Helixa, Verbena, Venus, and Lily… all smart, cunning, and ready to turn James into a scorpion before they'd worship him. Sirius would cackle and Remus would smirk when they caught their old friend smooching under the Quidditch bleachers, or flying sappy messages like papery sparrows through the air in double Potions.   
  
James also acquired a new, very determined follower. Maybe it was because he finally tired of being slimed, levitated, covered with boils, and just plain insulted by the Slytherins; or maybe it was because Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup for the second year running; or maybe because James was now a Prefect; whatever the reason, Peter Pettigrew finally stopped trailing Severus and now focused his idolatry on James. Where James sat, there Peter would be, what James said, Peter would echo, and at every Quidditch practice, Peter was in the stands, dressed in the Gryffindor red he had previously scorned. 

Peter also promptly developed a crush on a Slytherin, but things didn't work out so well for him. 

Less than an hour after his confession of love, a nasty little Dixi Hex was set up in the first floor girls' bathroom. Every time someone opened the door, it would speak: 

"Peter Pettigrew is a fat ugly git." 

Sometimes in a squeaky voice—a parody of his own?—with a slight lisp: "Peter Pettigwew is a fat ugwy git." 

Sometimes in the oily, self-satisfied tones of James Potter: "Petah Pettigrew is a faht ugly git." 

But most of the time in the voice of Innana Finnigan, the only girl he'd ever dared to ask out. 

Holding back tears, he ran up to Gryffindor tower, hoping someone would be there to help him undo the spell. He didn't even know where the voice was coming from: the door hinges themselves? The floor, the walls? He couldn't bear to tell James--but maybe Remus could help. It was all his fault anyway. 

All that greeted him in the common room was more laughter and mocking faces of people who never deigned to speak to him. He had been planning to spend this Sunday night studying, but now he'd never get to, and he'd make a fool of himself in Arithmancy again… He ran for the dormitory, intending to hide behind his drapes and sulk. Remus' drapes were pulled too; maybe he was napping, should Peter wake him up and--? But no, he could hear whispers. 

Jealousy gnawed at Peter. If even Remus was sneaking girls into the dormitory… well, he was going to tell. This was too much. He got closer, listening. 

"I am pretty confident about most of the rescue spells," Remus was saying soberly, "but I would feel so much better if I could practice first." 

"Practice? How?" It was James. 

Remus meowed, and muffled but unmistakable giggles emerged from the drapes. "How on earth are you going to get Professor McGonagall to let you practice on her?" Sirius chortled. 

"I don't know. With a good story--" 

Peter threw aside the drapes. The other three jumped, and James shoved a large and ancient book under the pillow. Sirius glared. 

Only Remus was friendly. "What's up, buddy?" 

"What are you guys doing?" Peter demanded, in a tone he didn't usually dare use to James and Sirius—but he was peeved. 

"Reading about Animagi," Remus replied, ignoring the other two as they tried to shush him. "Professor McGonagall's one, you know. Apparently she just showed her transformation to a class for the first time, with the third-years." 

Peter's face darkened. "I hope you're not thinking of trying that. And illegally--" 

"Oh, no, not me!" Remus exclaimed innocently, making the other two snort with laughter. "The very idea gives me the creeps!" He shivered. 

"Good." Peter didn't know why the others were laughing. He didn't want to hear anybody laughing; it just reminded him of the bathroom downstairs. Now James was pulling out that dreadful book. They were just going to try to scare him again, he knew it. Demons and Dementors and goblins and ghosts… "I need some help with something, OK?" he addressed Remus irritably. "Downstairs." 

"Sure, no problem. Hey James--?" 

"You want the Cloak again?" 

"Just for half an hour." 

"To get that other book or because you're hungry?" 

"I'm _starving."_ Remus stood up. At 15, he was still barely over five feet tall and frighteningly thin, like someone with a chronic illness. "You know what phase it is," he complained good-naturedly, rolling his eyes. 

"Here, then." James tossed the Invisibility Cloak at him. "Go steal yourself a side of beef or something. Honestly," he griped to Sirius as the others left, "Dumbledore is going to think I only use that Cloak to raid the kitchen." 

"Well, you know," Sirius snickered, "eating for two." 

Peter was paying very little attention. They were always making cryptic comments like that around him, and he had learned to accept that he wouldn't understand them. Besides, he was still fighting to hold back tears. Trying to whisper so James and Sirius wouldn't hear, but certain that he could hear their giggles anyway, he began his story as they descended the stairway. 

"You told me to be brave!" His whisper soon became a plaintive scream. "You told me she was probably just shy! And then she—they—I don't know who did it, but it's all your fault!"   
  


The next day they had a beastly assignment in Potions, and the day after that the moon was full, so Remus didn't get a chance to practice on McGonagall before he woke up in the hospital wing to the sound of horrible groans. Still woozy from transforming and from Pomfrey's assorted treatments, he pried his eyes open and looked around—the bed at the other end of the room was surrounded by drapes. He was about to ignore it and go back to sleep when a pained voice called, "Moony, are you there?" 

"Of course I am. James?" He was out of bed in an instant, and ran to pull aside the hangings—"Oh!" he gasped, not sure whether to laugh or cry. "James! James— you're an ungulate!" 

James Potter groaned loudly again, rubbing his head that had two enormous stag's antlers protruding at odd angles. "My head really hurts." 

"You practiced without me," Remus scolded. "Can Madam Pomfrey fix you?" 

"Yes, but it might take a week." He lowered his voice. "She didn't ask many questions. I said Sirius did it to me in a duel." 

"Good. Now look, wait for me this time: I promise I'll practice the reversal spells. Did you get completely stuck? Who reversed you?" 

"Sirius did. He hasn't tried it himself yet. But I only got halfway there—I'm still doing something wrong."   
  


James was back in class three days later, with nothing but a couple of bumps that his hat covered and that Madam Pomfrey promised would also disappear with time. He still looked a bit ill, though, and it didn't help that Sirius kept laughing at him. When Professor McGonagall said, "It's nice to have you back, James dear…" Sirius burst into such a peal of laughter that everyone started. 

After five years of dog jokes, that was too much for Remus. At first he tried to cover his mouth, but soon he was laughing along with Sirius, both of them unable to restrain themselves. 

_"Deer_ James…" Sirius screamed. "James, you big deer…" 

They were all used to that sort of behavior from him; but no one, to their memory, had ever seen Remus laugh out loud. "May I ask what you find so amusing, Mr. Lupin?" Professor McGonagall inquired. 

"Of course you may," he replied courteously. "…But I sure as hell won't tell you!" 

McGonagall gave him detention. Remus was still laughing.   
  


"See, it's perfect," he told Sirius later. They were sitting in the dormitory, which was empty—or seemed to be. "I have detention with McGonagall. I'll say anything at all to get a chance to practice, after seeing what James went through." He touched his temples in sympathy. "Ouch." 

"Tie it in with some Defense Against the Dark Arts topic and she won't suspect a thing. And give her that sad-puppy look: no one can resist you when you look depressed. I mean, when I saw you on the train—the instant I knew you weren't a ghost—I swore I'd make you laugh if it took me seven years." 

"It only took five." Remus was grinning. Still bruised and sore from three nights ago, he was nevertheless happier than he had ever been in his life. 

"And someday--" Sirius lowered his voice, but only slightly—"I'll make you wag your tail, too." 

"Hmph," Remus sniffed haughtily. "What do you take me for, a pet Alsatian?" He was suddenly serious again. "I'm still worried about this whole business, I must say. It's not as if you get to choose, you know, Sirius. Even I admit you're a doggy kind of guy, but, well—what if you end up a gerbil? If James can be a lousy old ruminant--" 

"I HEARD THAT." James had entered, removing his pointed wizard's hat and rubbing his head where the stubs of antlers still remained. It was a good thing his hair was so spiky. He glared at his two friends, and shot an especially malevolent look at Sirius; no doubt he was agonized over having to avoid his cute Slytherins until his head returned to normal. "We haven't even succeeded yet, and here you two are already planning to eat me." 

"No…" Remus said thoughtfully. "Not with prongs like those!" 

"Don't listen to him," Sirius warned. "I've seen him, you haven't. You'd be better off as a bear, James—or a saber-toothed cat." 

"A stag is just fine," assured Remus, in whom something primal shuddered at the thought of a saber-toothed cat. "It's just that herbivores are, you know, stupid." 

"One of us has to be," James muttered, "or we'll be running around the village eating people." 

Sirius and Remus looked at each other--but the race to the best wisecrack was interrupted. 

Peter Pettigrew had slid out from under his bed, lying flat on his stomach. His face was puffy and purple, and tears and snot streamed down his face. Remus leapt up and ran over. 

"Hey, Peter, what--?" 

"I hate you, hate you, hate you!" Peter squealed, dripping boogers onto the floor. "You promised you'd tell when you did something, and then you ignore me!" He sat up and pointed at his friend. "You told me you weren't going to become an Animagi--" 

"Oh, Peter." Remus winced. "Your Latin! It's one Animagus, singular. I believe I am singular, am I not?" he inquired of the others. 

"Extremely so," James muttered. 

"And when I told you, Peter, that I was not an Animagus, nor did I desire to become one, I was telling you the deepest of truths." He smirked at James and Sirius. 

For once Sirius wasn't laughing. He stood up, towering over Peter, his long curly black hair in disarray. "And anyway, it's none of your damn business, and you treat your friend with some respect!" He paused, as if not sure whether to continue, but his anger blossomed again at Peter's whimper of protest. "How dare you use that tone to him, when all he does is rescue you from your own stupidity. That Dixi Hex was _your fault. _ The Slytherin invasion of Gryffindor tower was _your fault._ And the way Severus is always following us around, trying to get us expelled… is your fault, too, you ugly stupid git!" 

Peter leapt up with a terrorized look and fled, snuffling. Remus made to follow him, but past events (and many detentions) had taught him that it could be dangerous to ignore Sirius' temper. He stood up and pulled Sirius back from the doorway, where he had leaned to yell invectives after the departing Peter. 

"Sirius," said Remus quietly, "it's OK. Don't scare him." 

Sirius brushed the hair out of his eyes and scowled. "I don't like the way he talks to you," he grumbled. 

"He's just not afraid of me." Remus smiled. Nothing could spoil his mood today. "It's a first for both of us." 

"He's a nasty sneak, a Slytherin spy." With a sneer of disgust, he looked under Peter's bed—but there was nothing and no one there. 

"He's a hero-worshiper, too," James added, blushing slightly at the implication that he was a hero. "I distrust that." 

"If he had more confidence in his own powers he wouldn't have to be that way," Remus argued in an even voice. "Can any of us imagine what it would be like to be a Squib, or even to fear that we were Squibs?" 

"Oh, very good," Sirius spat. "So you waste your time for five years and he still hasn't managed _Serpensortia."___

"He can blow things up pretty well," James commented, "remember? It was at the full moon," he explained when Remus looked puzzled. "We all went off and… well, it doesn't matter. You know, Moony, I think you're a bit of an idealist after all." 

"An idealist in cynic's clothing," muttered Sirius, as Remus glanced once more at his friends before heading off in pursuit of Peter. "Don't tell him anything!" he added in a louder voice, not sure if Remus could still hear him. 

He went and flung himself on his bed, glaring after his friend suspiciously. For someone with a big secret, Remus was remarkably bad at keeping them, and Sirius could just imagine him dragging Peter into all of their plans. It wasn't just Peter that was making him angry, either; James had been trying for weeks to claim that there was something special about his latest Slytherin squeeze, Lily. He never had time for his friends any more, even less for memorizing their dozens of Transfiguration spells and gathering ingredients for rescue potions: all he wanted to talk about was how smart Lily was, how brave Lily was, how he didn't feel right hiding things from Lily. 

Sirius groaned aloud, feeling as if their secret was leaking out from every direction, and at the same time they were getting nowhere nearer their goal. Between Remus' compassion and James' hormones, they'd be caught and in trouble before they got anywhere past fur and horns. 

"We'll never do it," he griped out loud—surprising James, who was standing by the mirror arranging his hair. 

James knew what he meant, of course. "Sure we will." He was humming to himself, and now he was getting a vase of flowers from his bedside. Three guesses what he had planned, bumps and all. "We're almost there." 

_"You're_ almost there. And I suppose we aren't practicing tonight?" 

James looked slightly abashed. "Well, if you'd let her join us…" 

"She's a Slytherin, James, a slimy, slithery _Slytherin._ They're all interested in one thing: getting you and me expelled." 

"Nonsense! Lily likes you a lot. What's got into you today?" 

Sirius sighed, then laughed. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just making up for Remus—it makes me nervous to see him happy like that. He's been that way ever since--" 

"Since I showed up groaning in the infirmary," James smiled. "You know how much this means to him. And he's been invaluable: he knows more about reversal charms than almost any wizard alive. You know how he is with potions, though," he added as if spontaneously, but Sirius was sure it was planned, "and Lily could help him with the Renaissance Potion, just in case." 

"Isn't that finished?" 

"No—Remus put the maggots in a jar and they turned into flies overnight. They're no use like that, and so we have to wait for the next new moon." 

"He's kind of a swot around that time," Sirius commented, and they laughed nervously. 

The two had grown rapidly used to the fact that their friend's personality was as changing as the tides. They even thought it was part of his charm, especially since the shifts were subtle; it had been years since Remus had snapped or growled at anyone. But he was still a bit sensitive about it, and would have been very offended to hear that Sirius and James always had the phase of the moon in mind when they asked him something. He would've liked it even less that his most human phase was not their favorite. 

"I hope we don't need the potion, anyway," James commented to himself, preparing to leave. "If it works, it turns you back into a human, but as a newborn baby. Try explaining that one to Pomfrey." 

Sirius stopped James before he could go. "I'll help Remus with the potion myself. Don't go telling any Slytherins. Do you hear? And if you're done necking at a reasonable hour," he muttered, "I'll be in the old History of Magic classroom, practicing." The last word was emphasized with some sarcasm, and Sirius stomped off, cursing under his breath.   
  


"James, you poor dear…" Lily patted his head. 

"Please," he grumbled. "Not that. At least," he muttered under his breath, "there aren't nearly as many expressions as with dogs." 

"What?" Lily sat back. "I can't understand half the things you say. You have a private language, JamesandSirius-ese." 

They were leaning against a wall in the Astronomy tower, looking at the stars, after a long and exhilarating ride on their broomsticks. Lily was the first girl to ever play on the Slytherin Quidditch team—she was a Beater—and certainly the only girl James had ever met who was his match in the air. And those green eyes… 

He turned to look into them, full of doubt. The last thing on earth Lily would ever be was a tattle-tale: she'd probably pulled as many pranks as he had, and had detention fewer times only because she hadn't been caught. She hadn't been at all shocked by James' "confession" that the bumps on his head were from a Polyjuice Potion mistake, an advanced concoction that he had no business playing around with. Still, what he and Sirius were planning was more than a stunt: it was a crime, and if they were caught… 

What if he married Lily one day? he wondered suddenly, reaching for her hand. Would she see him any differently if he could turn into an animal at will? Would the fact that his incarnation reflected his inner nature tell her things about him that he'd rather she didn't know? For a moment he understood just a little of how Remus must feel: how did one hide one's very species? 

"If I were a criminal, would you still love me?" James asked, trying to sound joking. 

"More of a criminal than you are, you mean?" Lily teased—but she caught sight of his face in the moonlight and pulled her hand away. "What are you talking about, James?" She was suddenly very serious, and held her cloak around her and stared at him, expecting an answer. 

"Sirius and I…" He gulped. "Well, we're just trying a spell we shouldn't, one that's way beyond us… If we do something wrong, or we're discovered--" 

Lily got to her feet and stared over the side of the tower for a long moment. Then she whirled on him and said in a very low voice, "So that's it. You think because I'm a Slytherin, I'll go along with it, don't you? That's why you've been dating us…" 

"What?" asked James. He wrapped his own cloak about him, chilly now. 

She blinked several times, her eyes penetrating. "You're interested in Dark Magic, aren't you." It wasn't a question. 

James leapt up and joined her at the railing. He tried to laugh. "No, of course I'm not!" He took her face in his hands and made her look at him. "What's the matter? I've told you secrets before, and you never--" 

"You've never been like this before." Her eyes wouldn't meet his. "I've been suspicious of you for a while. There's something a little bit strange about a Gryffindor Prefect going out with no one but Slytherins. If you think you can _use_ me to get closer to Lord Voldemort--" 

He took a step back, staggered. Then he clapped his hands together as if calling a timeout. "Lily!" He stumbled through a series of protests and excuses, no-not-me's, how-could-you-think's, knowing by her turned back that she was far from convinced. "I promise you I'd be the last wizard on earth to work for Lord Voldemort," he whispered, scarcely able to pronounce those last four words aloud. 

"Then you'll _be_ the last wizard on earth," she snapped. She took a deep breath and faced him. "I'm sorry, James… Maybe it was uncalled-for, to make such a big assumption like that. But what you said reminded me so much…" her voice became inaudible. "It happened to me again today… and last week…Sometimes I think I'm the only one left who dares to stand up to Voldemort's recruiters." 

"I dare," James replied stoutly. "And _all _my friends do, too. Any one of us would die rather than work for the Dark side: even Peter!" He reached out his arms for Lily. "I'm sorry, I didn't want this to turn into a conversation about Lord Voldemort." 

Reluctantly, she took her hands off the rail of the Astronomy tower and nestled her head against his chest. "You can forgive me for not trusting you," she murmured. "Dating Slytherins… feeding me all that mushy I-love-you crap…" 

"It's not crap," he objected. 

She pushed him away a little. "No one loves me, unless it's to prove something about themselves." 

"You can't say that," James told her. "Even if you could say it once, you can't any more. _I_ love you: because you are smarter than me, and faster than me, and aren't afraid of the Dark Lord. Let's be young and happy and live while we can. Isn't that enough?" 

Lily allowed herself to be held, but she wasn't entirely placated. "Flattery will get you nowhere. So what's your big secret, James Potter?" 

He stroked her hair, thinking that what he had to say would be anticlimactic after Lord Voldemort. He tried to be light-hearted. "Oh… Sirius and I are working on an Animagus transformation. We have been for almost three years." 

Lily, of course, was shocked—but this amount of shock she could deal with. She jumped out of his embrace, regarding him quizzically, back to her old no-nonsense self. "What?" She didn't know where to begin. "Why? Just to be show-offs, I'm sure. To show up McGonagall? OK, you're twice the wizard that she is, but still…" 

Jumping from Lord Voldemort to a discussion of why he was becoming an Animagus was too much of an emotional gearshift for James that night. "It's not that…" he objected feebly. 

Lily reached for her broomstick. "You send me into a panic thinking about the Dark Lord, and really all it is is that you're risking your life to be able to chase Professor McGonagall up a tree." 

"No… it's Sirius who'll do that," he chuckled, trying to restore some of their happiness before she flew away. 

"Good night, James," said Lily, shaking her head with a wry laugh and leaping off the edge of the tower with grace that any professional Quidditch player would envy. "I think I've heard enough."   
  


It was several days before Lily would speak to him again. James suspected that she was humiliated at having become so emotional, revealing that under the tough shell of the smartest Slytherin fifth-year, she could feel loneliness and dread. He also realized the depth of her mistrust for him. On a personal level, he was stung; less selfishly, he despaired of being part of a generation where something as seemingly harmless as inter-House romance awakened suspicions of Dark Magic. Things were worse than he had thought—Lily, being in Slytherin, must have seen the leading edge of defections to Voldemort's side. These gloomy thoughts made him want to be with her even more. Her honest outburst had told him that he would never need to doubt her loyalties, and he needed all the people like that he could find. 

He was so distracted that in their next Quidditch match, the Slytherin Seeker sailed right by him and grabbed the Snitch without James noticing anything except that there was nothing more beautiful than a green-eyed woman in emerald robes. 

One consolation, he thought as he landed, she'll at least speak to me in order to gloat. He planted himself in front of her as she headed for the showers, loving the mud in her hair, the triumphant look on her face, the expert way in which she carried her broom even on the ground. "Let's go for a fly," he suggested. "Just you and me." 

She gave him a sharp look but agreed without words, the two swooping upwards in their enemy colors, dodging and swiping at each other. 

"A bit slow on the uptake tonight, James," Lily said finally. "Have you got hooves or something under there?" 

James laughed. "I'm sure it looked bad, with those knobs on my head and everything, but…" 

"But what?" 

He let himself fall behind, then climbed slowly and steadily before coming zooming down in front of her like a duck shot by a hunter. "I'm not a show-off," he called, laughing. 

Lily put both hands on the front of her broomstick, and flipped up into a handstand and sailed by him. "Neither am I," she mocked. 

He gaped at her stunt, impressed. "I'll tell you the whole story, if you'll let me," he promised, looping her. 

She pulled right alongside and peeked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Our side needs you, James. You can't afford to waste your life on silly tricks." 

"You can say `our side,'" he said, holding her broom's tail so she couldn't escape, "but you won't say that _you_ need me." 

"I don't." 

"Yes you do. We all need friends, ones we can trust no matter what happens…_I_ need _you,"_ he said solemnly, dropping like a stone on his broomstick to come to rest on the grass. 

Lily couldn't descend quite as quickly—James wasn't a Seeker for nothing—but she quickly rejoined him. They both stood, leaning on their broomsticks, watching the light of the waning half-moon play on the ripples of the lake. "Why me?" she asked after a long pause, during which she caught her breath after the exertion and tried to wipe some of the mud off of her front. "You have your little gang, James, plenty of Gryffindors to tell you how wonderful you are and to obey your every command." 

"That's not what I want," he said quietly. 

He knew that wasn't how it looked. He thought with a wince of Peter, handing him his cloak like a house elf—his best friend as long as James never dropped the Snitch. The girls were even worse, but how could he tell that to Lily? He'd sound like the worst kind of snob, saying "Girls worship me and I hate it." And why was Lily not popular the way he was? Was she too abrupt, too aloof… a little scary? 

"I like friends who are better than me," he continued at last. "Ones who can eat me alive—literally or figuratively." He laughed, thinking that "herbivores are stupid" was probably the most honest thing Remus had ever said to him. 

"I'll stick with the figurative," Lily replied dryly. "So what kind of animal is Sirius going to be, anyway? I almost don't like to think." 

Neither did James. A nice black Lab would seem welcome after all of his worries about grizzly bears and mountain lions. "We don't know yet," he admitted. "We're getting really close, but he's only had black fur a few times. He's ready to kill me because we haven't been practicing." 

"Because of me," Lily stated flatly. 

"But Lily…" He edged closer to her, hoping she'd take his hand. She did. He swallowed hard. "I'm not sure if I want to go through with it. Neither is Sirius. It's scary, so many things can go wrong, and… and I want to know if it will change your opinion of me." 

"What will change my opinion of you is _why_ you're doing it," Lily replied. 

"Well," said James. "…It's a long story."   
  


He spent the next week telling it to her. There was so much to say, so much the threesome wouldn't even admit to themselves. He told her about Sirius' prank in the tunnel in the beginning of their second year; cousin Perseus; them sending Mrs. Lupin all over wizarding England in search of books; how he'd avoided her whenever he had fur or antlers. 

The facts were easy. Harder was explaining their motivation, how he and Sirius were constantly inspired by how their progress made Remus happy. She only knew Remus as the small, pale boy who was loathed by the Slytherins for clobbering them all in Defense Against the Dark Arts; she hadn't experienced his miserable self-loathing, or seen how tired and hurt he was in the hospital wing every month. James tried to describe how as he and Sirius explored their animal natures, Remus stopped trying so desperately to deny his own, and was even beginning to enjoy sharing his unusual experience with his friends. There was even a bit of competition between him and Sirius: while Remus couldn't control when and where his transformations occurred, he at least knew that he would always be the swiftest, strongest, and cleverest animal. 

Lily tried to understand, but it was a lot of information to process at once. The Slytherins hadn't even guessed Remus' secret, something that came as a bit of a surprise to James. 

"So he's the werewolf, eh?" Lily remarked, surprised but not shocked. They were on the grass by the lake again, wrapped in cloaks against the dry chill of a cloudless winter night. They loved being outside together, both for the privacy and perhaps for the way the darkness hid the expressions on their faces. "We all figured out he was gone at the full moon a long time ago," she declared, defending her House against charges of stupidity. "We just thought it was his mum, since he always said she was ill, and supposed that he was so good at Dark Arts because he had to go home and deal with her every month!" She snickered. "So is his mum one too, or did he get bitten?" 

James had to laugh. "His mum! No, I've met her a dozen times, she's a nice lady. He was bitten years ago, he doesn't even remember being normal. Anyway, it's worse if you inherit it." He took Lily's hand, wanting its warmth against the chill of night and his own thoughts. "That's why they aren't allowed to get married, or have kids…" 

"That makes sense," she said in a practical voice. "But rather lonely," she admitted, squeezing his hand. "Still," she nudged him playfully, "When we're married, I don't want to wake up at night and find horns and hooves." 

" Are you going to try to stop me?" 

Lily shivered a little. "No," she said, after some thought. "If you were just trying to show off, then I would." 

"You don't--" he was suddenly hopeful "—you don't want to try it too, do you?" 

"You've got to be kidding." She laughed. "I can't pretend to understand your motivation, James—in fact, I think it's nuts. But if there are Charms or Potions involved, you know you can get me to help." She turned and kissed him on the cheek, the shy peck of a girl who really isn't sure that she wants to do this. "Come on, let's go in—it's freezing."   
  


They looked for Sirius in the History of Magic classroom, James contrite because he'd skipped so many practices. 

Sirius was there. But it didn't look like a Transfiguration session: he and Remus were sitting on the floor, both looking pale and shaken and munching on chocolate.   
  
"That was awesome," Sirius was saying. "You were amazing tonight."   
  
Remus shook his head. "I'm still not as good as you. A definite improvement, though." He reached for another Chocolate Frog. "Hey, it's Agrippa!" He stuck the card into his pocket. 

James and Lily stood in front of them. "What are you two up to?" 

Sirius tried to smirk but he was still spooked. "Um," he confessed, "fighting Dementors…" He got to his feet, a bit unsteadily. 

James grabbed him by the shoulders, ready to shake him. "What? You brought a _Dementor_…?" 

Remus stood up too. "No, no," he said mildly, "not a real Dementor, of course. A shape-shifter." 

"You mean a Boggart?" Lily wondered.   
  
"A Hedley Kow, actually," Sirius corrected, "a harmless shape-shifter that turns into anything you want it to." 

"A Boggart turns into what you fear most," Remus added quietly, "which may not have given us what we wanted. And they're trickier to get rid of." 

"What spells were you using?" She was intrigued. 

"Well…" Remus admitted. "We were trying a Patronus Charm. Ridiculously advanced, I know." It was always easy to forget how good he was since he said everything so casually, as if bored by anything the Dark Arts could throw at him. And with chocolate smeared on his face, his robe several sizes too large, he looked scarcely more than a baby. 

"But we're getting there," Sirius boasted. "You should've seen him that last time!" 

"I suppose that means we shouldn't practice transforming," James said thoughtfully. "It looks as if you two have had enough." He held up his hand as Sirius glared suspiciously at Lily. "It's OK. She knows—wait, Sirius, wait, let me finish. I have been thinking about this for two weeks, nonstop. What we're doing is very serious and more than a little frightening. If it works, it will change us forever, I hope you realize this. I want to share this… with a very close friend whom I think I love."   
  
The others could see Lily's cheeks redden even in the dingy classroom. Sirius snorted in disgust; but Remus gave them a kind smile. "That's sweet," he said. "Congratulations."   
  
Lily glanced sharply at James, as if unable to reconcile Remus' behavior with all that they had just been saying about him. James shrugged and took her hand. 

She looked back at Remus. She'd never really looked at him before—he appeared tired yet strangely cheerful, despite the Dementor, and his brown eyes were very warm. He was embarrassed by the scrutiny and didn't hold her gaze for long. "Would you like a Chocolate Frog?" he asked. "We have several dozen."   
  
James and Lily each took one. They were all tense for a few moments, waiting for Sirius' response. 

It was as they expected. He was spluttering, his usual energy blunted by the effort of the Patronus Charm, but his temper typically volcanic. "You're much too young for this L-word shit," he fumed. "And—and—we can't trust anyone, never mind a--"   
  
"A Slytherin?" Lily finished for him. "We're not all snitches and sneaks. Let me remind you that it's one of _yours _who has the biggest problem in that area." 

Sirius roared in fury. "Don't even mention Peter! I bet he--" he pointed at Remus in a rage "—has told that git everything, too!" 

"Well, but, I--" Remus began defensively. 

Sirius grabbed his head in both hands. "Oh, you didn't! You DIDN'T!" 

"I didn't tell, I only implied," said Remus in a very small voice. "He thinks the Animagus transformation is cool. Think of how good it would be for him… he'd finally have to do the work on his own." 

"He'll tell," Lily and Sirius warned in a single voice. They exchanged glances, Sirius astounded that he'd ever find himself agreeing with a Slytherin. 

Remus grinned. "He _can't_ tell. Or at least he can't prove it. Professor McGonagall, when she was showing me how to force an Animagus to regain human form, said that you can't do the converse. Not even Dumbledore can tell if a person is an Animagus unless they choose to transform. Not even _animals_ can tell." His tone showed that he was well acquainted with the perceptiveness of animals. 

Lily fixed him with her clear gaze. "But you have a secret, too," she reminded him. 

"Oh," he said, light-heartedly, "that's right, I forgot." He glanced at James, not entirely sure if Lily had meant what he thought she meant, since she was so calm about it. Then he looked back at Lily. _"You_ seem to be taking it rather well," he remarked with an ironic smile. 

She smiled back. "Sure, but I'm not a coward." 

"Oh, Lily," he sighed, "Peter's not really--" 

"Yes he is. He thinks Severus is a demi-god. He's even scared to death of James--" she nudged him with her elbow "--the lousy ruminant." 

Remus opened his eyes wide in shock. "James, you didn't repeat—you know I didn't mean--" 

"You did too," James laughed. "I'm dying to hear what you say when Sirius is a bunny rabbit." 

"Hey!" Sirius bellowed. "You know the rule!" He turned to Lily. "Since you're in on this now, you should know that there are certain rules—at least until I do it right the first time. Don't talk to me about animals. Don't show me pictures of animals…" 

"Any animals?" Lily wondered. "Because we had those toads in Potions today…"   
  
Sirius grimaced slightly, but he regained his composure. "Actually, it's very hard to be a reptile or a bird. One becomes a mammal by default." 

"A good thing, too," Remus put in, "or I'd have to stand there with a goldfish bowl while they practiced." 

"But no rats, mice, bunnies, opossums—oh God, I'm jinxing myself as we speak. Did you tell Peter you don't get to choose?" 

"I sure did; he didn't like that part at all. I think he thought I was trying to put one over on him." 

"I would if I could," Sirius growled. "He's be a—no, don't make me think about it." 

"Remus," said Lily firmly, "you don't have to be a saint in order not to be a monster. I know what he's like, because he hung out in our house for two years—and you shouldn't be friends with spies." 

"Let's talk about it tomorrow," James suggested. "I don't think any of our lives depend on Peter." They left the classroom, and he and Lily parted on the stairs to Gryffindor tower with one last long look. They skipped the kiss because Sirius was making retching noises.   



	4. What Big Teeth You Have

**Usual disclaimer: all characters are JK Rowling's, and I bet she really didn't make Lily a Slytherin**

_OK, before I'm flamed too hard for the "muggle-born in Slytherin" thing, here's the explanation._   
_The Latin terms are all lunar features: mare tranquillitatis, sea of tranquility; mare crisium, sea of crises; oceanus procellarum, ocean of storms; mare ingenii, ocean of cleverness._   
(New version has a couple of typos corrected and a new Dementor bit)   
  


##  Cub Scout 4

  
The Gryffindors rapidly got used to Lily. They even tolerated her occasional presence in the common room, as long as she solemnly swore to tell none of her fellows its location, and didn't wear anything with green in it. People stopped taunting James so much for his dating preferences--though there was endless speculation on how Lily, from a Muggle family, could end up in Slytherin. James would look uncomfortable at this and refuse to answer. 

She was a more than welcome addition as Potion-brewer to the Animagus project, and her advice was taken as readily as James'--with one exception. Sick of being pestered and spied on, James finally relented and let Peter Pettigrew in, over all of Lily's warnings that he would be no good. 

It was easy enough to get Peter caught up, slow though he was. James and Sirius had done the hard part already: learned which spells were critical, figured out how to tie them together, and discovered dozens of the ways in which they could go wrong. Peter's late start meant that he would have even less choice in his animal than the other two--his transformation would reflect more of his pure nature--but this didn't seem to bother him as long as he got to spend all evening every evening next to James, imitating him. 

They practiced for the first time after more than a month of rehearsal, on the night before the full moon, just on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. 

"What now?" Peter asked James worshipfully. James, Sirius, and Peter were a much clumsier fit under the Cloak than the usual threesome because of Peter's big belly, and they had spent a full fifteen minutes waddling out to their meeting site. 

James looked at the sky: his best friend's namesake, Sirius the Dog Star, was just visible over the southern horizon. It was nearing midnight. "We wait for Lily and Remus," he said. 

There was a crunching in the leaves. "Here we are," said Lily's soft voice, slightly out of breath. She was holding one side of an extremely full, evil-smelling cauldron. On the other end was Remus, looking just about ready to drop it. "Careful…" she warned. "I don't want to end up part infant. Whew." They nestled it into a hollow in the grass. "OK, guys, sorry we're late; it's much harder to sneak out without the Cloak. I love Remus' effect on Filch's cur, though. Who's first?" 

"Er, we were thinking Peter should try first," James suggested. "Since he hasn't yet." 

With a very serious look on his face, Peter stood between James and Sirius, eyes closed, concentrating. 

Lily and Remus met each other's eyes over the cauldron. They were both glad they didn't have to do this. 

He's such a nice boy, Lily thought, I can't believe he's a werewolf. 

She's such a nice girl, Remus thought, I can't believe she's a Slytherin. 

As if they sensed each other's thoughts, they both smiled sardonically, looking with bated breath at Peter. 

There was a noise—a very small noise, not a pop but a click. Peter looked the same. 

Apparently he noticed a difference, though, because he rolled up his sleeve. "Ooohh…" 

"Fur," Sirius diagnosed. "Yeah, that's happened to me a few times. It wears off." 

"You should've seen me last month," James reassured. 

"But I—but you—can't you remove it?" 

"No," Sirius told him, "I've tried. Don't try shaving it, either—you'll be sorry. And since it's not on your face, you shouldn't go to Madam Pomfrey; save her for emergencies." 

Peter looked around at each of the others, near tears. Finally he glowered at Remus, the only one he didn't consider a deity. "Are you going to do it?" 

Remus yawned. "Oh, I'll do it tomorrow," he said, with a sly peek at the gibbous moon shining nearly overhead. "How about you, Sirius—moment of truth." 

"James first." Sirius was tense. He still didn't know what he was going to be. 

He hadn't practiced since the horns, but James was sure he'd identified the problems. Now there was an almost immediate pop and the stag was standing next to them. 

"My toe!" Peter yelled. 

"He's not on your toe," Sirius yelled back. 

"Almost!" 

James went over to Lily and nuzzled her, then gazed inquiringly at Remus. 

Remus touched an antler cautiously. He questioned the wisdom of Mother Nature in providing prey animals with such formidable weapons, but tried not to dwell on that. "Hey there, Prongs. Can you come back, or do you need some of this lovely juice?" 

There was another pop and James was back. 

All eyes turned to Sirius. 

"OK, OK, I'm ready." He stood in front of the cauldron. With a glare on either side—one for Peter, one for James—he shut his eyes and was quiet. 

"Should I transform too?" James wondered. "For company?" 

"Shhh… no. Show-off. Everyone stop breathing." 

Remus nearly did. He stared into the potion… at Peter, sulking… into the forest, where there was a large owl searching for dinner (what did he see?)… Finally he shut his eyes, too, unable to bear the suspense. 

There was a tearing noise. Remus, James, and Lily all jumped. 

Peter, trying to pull the cloth away from his furry tummy, had torn a hole in his robe. 

James pressed a finger to his lips menacingly, making Peter cower. 

They waited. Sirius didn't move. 

The owl swooped silently from his perch and glided through the air. Remus was so engrossed by the hunt that he heard nothing. It was something bigger than a mouse that the bird was after; he could see the shape, crouched behind a rock… And there went the owl, diving while still far off and sneaking up on the unsuspecting-- 

A bark brought him back to his senses. A short bark of surprise, followed by the scrabbling of paws on leaves and pine needles. 

It had been so many years, and he'd imagined this so many times, that for a split second Remus didn't know what to do. The dog was clearly an animal, from lolling tongue to wagging tail, but it was still Sirius: it had his shaggy black hair, his troublemaker's grin, his restless energy. So easy to believe his friend hadn't changed at all. His eyes were different, though: pale, washed-out blue, as opposed to the boy's dark brown. Funny, Remus thought, mine don't change color when I transform. I wonder what that means? 

Finally he remembered his canine manners and stuck out his hand for Sirius to sniff. The dog licked his fingers, tail waving madly, then greeted James, Lily, and Peter in a similar fashion. 

"Time to come back," James reminded him. 

"Yes, come on," Lily urged, pointing at the potion. "Don't make me use this." 

"Like we practiced," Remus added. "One, two--" 

"Oh, God!" Sirius was still on his hands and knees. He stood up, threw his hands in the air, and shouted to the sky. "God! I did it! I _did _it! I was transformed, right, guys? All the way? It worked, didn't it? Oh, it was so different… How could I have been doing it wrong all this time…? Oh!" Finally he was at a loss for words. He ran over and gave Lily a hug. "I did it, right?" He turned to Remus, who was still a little stunned, and embraced him too, knocking his hat into the cauldron. "Buddy, I did it! We'll be cousins! I could see in the _dark._ The sense of _smell_… Geez. Wow." 

"It's something, isn't it?" Remus commented quietly. 

"I could tell you'd had a chicken sandwich for dinner," Sirius addressed Lily. "With mustard and pickles. And I could name every single ingredient in that vile brew you two were carrying. You," he told Peter, "reek of mouse, and you--" he smirked at Remus "—were a little bit scared of me." Everyone except Peter laughed. Sirius turned to James. "I'm just petrified I won't be able to do it again. Should I practice one more time?" 

"No, not when you're tired," James advised. "It will be easier next time, though, I bet. Congratulations," he grinned. "No bunny rabbit." 

Sirius was in such a great mood that he went to comfort Peter. "You're coming right along," he promised. "Really, I had that fur so many times… Lily, do you really have to lug that potion back with us?" 

"We might still need it, Sirius," she told him. "It was your first time, and Peter… Why don't you let Remus and me take the Cloak, James, so we can put this into Zabini's dungeon? We'll bring it back out to you afterwards." 

"Do you suppose the potion's still good with my hat dissolved in it?" Remus wondered. 

"I'm sure it is. Turned it into a silkworm, probably." 

They all crept back through the edge of the forest. Sirius couldn't stop talking. He even wanted to go off and fight Dementors. "Please, Moony? I'd be so good tonight." 

"It's late," James reminded him. "You may feel good, but I'm sure your powers are drained, and Remus has a hard day tomorrow." 

"Are we doing the real thing then?" Sirus wondered eagerly. 

"No, please." Remus was worried and sad, but couldn't possibly have said why. "Let's give Peter a chance to catch up… and we still have to figure out how to stop the tree, so it doesn't club you." 

"What?" Peter was confused. "What are you guys _talking_ about? Did you turn someone into a _tree?"_ he cried accusingly. 

Fortunately, Lily changed the subject. "I have no interest in being an animal, but I'd love to fight Dementors. There's not a single Slytherin fifth-year who's even heard of the Patronus Charm. Let me know next time you practice."   
  


James and Sirius spent every free moment over the next three weeks training Peter in his transformation, with Lily and Remus nearby in case of emergency. Finally, the night of first quarter, he did it for the first time. 

They all practiced every day for a week after that, with a single glitch: Peter once ended up with two tails and no head. Remus' spells couldn't help since, headless, Peter had no mind to access—so Lily picked him up and plopped him unceremoniously into the cauldron. 

A few minutes later, she put on her dragon-hide gloves and pulled out a fat, screaming blond baby. Ignoring Sirius' variety of suggestions as to what they could do with him in that state--although she laughed at "give him back to his parents and tell them to try again"--she pulled a vial out of her pocket and sprinkled him with a few drops. 

Peter was back—spluttering and near tears, but back. 

She put her vial away again. "Severus made it; I just nicked some. Not bad, eh? You'd better start working on the next batch of renewal potion yourself, Peter, because I don't think the old one will work twice." She reached into her pocket for a well-worn piece of parchment, and quickly did a copying spell. "Here's the recipe. I'd help but I'm going to be busy fighting Dementors." 

Lily was everybody's hero after that. Sirius didn't even gag when she and James kissed goodnight, just watched her disappear into the dungeons with a wistful look. "If they made more girls like that, I might start liking them," he remarked. 

The next night, Lily showed up in the dusty History of Magic classroom lugging a large cardboard box. It bulged a bit and squirmed in her arms. "Here's the critters; where's James?" She looked around, finding only Sirius and Remus. "He was supposed to bring chocolate." 

"Oh, he's coming," Sirius chuckled. "He's still up there with the rat." 

She shook her head. "If I cared, I'd worry that you had something to do with that… but I don't," she added heartlessly, laughing. 

"It's his true nature," Sirius insisted. "This time, nature's crueler to him than even I can be." 

She put down her shape-shifters. "How do you get these guys to turn into Dementors?" she asked. "You'd have to really be thinking about a Dementor--" 

"Only Remus can do it," said Sirius. "I can't figure it out." 

"I make no claims for their authenticity, but it's the best I can do." Remus tried to smile, but he had been morose and anxious all month. He should have been eager for the upcoming full moon, but instead he was dreading it more than ever before. And Peter still didn't know. "Do you have a happy memory ready, Lily?" 

"Oh, yes—I've been thinking hard about this." She took out her wand. "OK, bring 'em on."   
  


The lights were out when James came in, and the classroom was very cold. A small jet of silver was the only thing visible, and he could hear Lily's voice chanting "Expecto Patronum." He waited at the door, holding his tray full of food, until there was a loud CRACK and the lights came back on. 

Lily, ice cold and shaking, went to snuggle him and take a Chocolate Frog. "I think you guys killed it," she chided Remus and Sirius, looking at the wispy remains of the shape-shifter. "You both tried to rescue me at once. Anyway, I was doing fine." 

"Sorry," they apologized. 

"It's best to stop while you're ahead," Sirius advised. "If you go until you collapse, you can't do it again for days. Oh boy," he caught sight of James' tray, "food!" 

"I thought Remus would want something besides chocolate," James replied, "and since I was in the kitchen anyway…" 

"Mmm, lamb chops," said Remus. "Thanks!" He took the tray as if preparing to devour everything. 

"Save me some," Sirius scolded. "Dementors make me hungry. But don't do anything too gross," he made a face as James and Lily squeezed each other's hands, "you'll spoil my appetite." 

James watched with surprise as Sirius made himself an enormous ham sandwich. "Oh no," he groaned, "I hope you're not going to start, too." 

"Start what?" Lily questioned, watching Remus with interest. "Hey, do you eat a lot because you're a werewolf?" she wondered bluntly. 

Remus choked. James made a funny face. Sirius tried to laugh, but even he looked embarrassed. 

"What?" Lily demanded, trying to read James' expression. "We're not allowed to talk about it? That's too stupid." She took another piece of chocolate. "You don't have anything to be ashamed of," she told Remus matter-of-factly. 

He gulped and tried to resume chewing. "Uh, right," he mumbled after he could swallow, "whatever." He clearly thought she was either a bit mad or making fun of him. The others could make dog jokes, but they would certainly never bring the topic up in such a callous manner. "I'm always hungry because I'm growing and so is, er, it," he confessed quietly. He was never quite sure what to do about the pronouns: "us" was confusing, and "both of me" just too weird. "It's like being two teenagers at once." 

"Interesting," she said. "…Have you ever bitten anyone?" 

He choked again. "No!" 

"Well, then, quit acting like it's such a bad thing. Things are only bad when you're not allowed to talk about them. I just can't figure out why you're not a Slytherin—no, wait." She put up her hand before he could protest. "Of course I can, you're way too nice. If I were a werewolf--" 

"God forbid," said Remus and James at once. 

"What?" Lily laughed. "I could deal with it. Half of Slytherin House would take your curse in exchange for your skill in Defense Against the Dark Arts." 

"But…" Remus began, looking at Sirius for help. 

"They're not necessarily related," Sirius tried. "Maybe he's just good at the subject." 

"Oh, sure," Lily snorted. "Tell me, Remus—were you always the kind, well-mannered boy you are now?" 

Remus was about to object that of course he was, but nearly-forgotten memories came flooding back to haunt him. That last summer at home before coming to Hogwarts, when his mother had nearly despaired; the horrible effort in the tunnel to Honeydukes, trying to warn Sirius away, seeing his own best friend as prey. Hardly imaginable that that had been himself—and yet it was not so very long ago. 

His silence told Lily that she was right. "Take advantage of it," she said, "it's a gift. I get enough of people trying to make me ashamed of what I am when I go home for the holidays, I'm not going to deal with the same garbage at Hogwarts." 

Sirius chuckled. "Ah, the infamous Petunia. We're all waiting to be qualified so we can run to their house and change Petunia's nose into a snail." 

"You can't do that, Sirius," said Lily in a sweet voice. "…Because she won't have a nose by the time I'm done with her! Do you know what she tried to tell me?" she asked Remus. "That since I was a witch, I had no soul." 

Remus was concentrating on his midnight snack and didn't look at her. "Hmm," he said finally, trying to be casual. He still didn't know what to make of Lily. "That would make it hard to do a Fidelius Charm, wouldn't it?" 

Lily grew very quiet for a moment. "What do you know about those?" she wondered, suddenly intense. 

He met her eyes briefly. "Me? Nothing. Dumbledore is probably the only one in the castle who knows how to perform one. Why?" 

Lily shrugged, switching too quickly from fascination to indifference. "I like a challenge as much as any of you. And I was worried for a second—can't have you beating me in Charms. It's the only pride Slytherin has left." She sighed and looked at each of them in turn. "If they'd given us just one of you…" 

"Not me!" exclaimed Sirius. He was now eating a sandwich made of two pieces of bread and a chocolate bar. "Why the hell are you there? You're a mudblood!" 

"Actually…" Lily allowed there to be a dramatic pause. "My parents are non-magical, but they're not muggles. That's right: Squibs, both of them. And from families that don't take kindly to Squibs, especially on my mother's side…" She dropped her dramatic tone and spoke matter-of-factly. "She was kicked out of the house, disowned, the whole business. I think she hopes they'll start talking to her again if I do something great--that's why poor Petunia, well--" she laughed cruelly. "You just can't feel sorry for her, but if there's a way for a muggle to be a Squib, that's what she'd be." 

There was an uncomfortable silence. Everyone looked thoughtful. 

Sirius broke the tension with a snort. "Aha! So your mum's a Pettigrew, Lily?" They'd all heard more times than they could stomach about how the great Pettigrew line had never produced a Squib. 

"Nope." Lily smiled and raised her eyebrows knowingly. "A Malfoy." 

"Oh my God." Sirius was genuinely surprised. James looked a little abashed. 

"Eek, help, she's evil," said Remus blandly. "Instead of wishing us in Slytherin, Lily, why don't you wish yourself in Gryffindor?" 

"Because, if you'll recall, five years ago Gryffindor was nothing." She stood up and addressed the others as if at a lecture. "Remember? We had won the Quidditch Cup for five years in a row, the House Cup for seven. We were unbeatable at Potions and always took at least the top five slots in Defense Against the Dark Arts. I was proud to be a Slytherin, as anyone would be. You three ruined everything." 

"Gee, and she still likes me," James piped up dopily. 

Lily glared at him to show this was no laughing matter. "Only because when you win, it's fair and square. Slytherin pride got stupider as we lost anything to back it up," she continued. "Sudddenly being a pureblood was all that mattered, not any real accomplishments. It was empty pride, without honor: when you beat Severus in Potions last year, James, he was determined to get you expelled. But when I beat you in Charms, you sent me a wonderful Mandrake that I still have in a giant pot in the greenhouse, and that I'm sure will come in handy someday." She sighed. "It's been a long time that Slytherins are no longer respected—only loathed." 

Sirius and James high-fived each other. 

"Still," Sirius peered at her with suspicion, "even if you're a Malfoy, there are plenty of people who get Sorted differently from their families. My mum was a Hufflepuff, Remus' parents were both Ravenclaws, James--" 

"Gryffindor from way back," said James. "In fact, my parents are friends with the famous Pettigrews. I met Peter three or four times when we were both little and I couldn't stand him. Do you remember how, way back when, I tried to tell him I was a mudblood? I was afraid he'd recognize me." 

"OK, so of three of us, only you follow your family," Sirius persisted. "The Hat must've known something about you, Lily; what did it say?" 

"That's kind of a personal question, isn't it?" She leered at him. "But I might tell you if you tell me what memory you use for your Patronus Charm." 

"Bad idea," said Sirius. He finally finished eating and picked up his wand. "I haven't gotten it to work yet. Moony, are you ready for one more go?" 

Remus got up and went to the cardboard box, thinking hard about Dementors. "The problem is, when they send you to Azkaban they take away your wand," he remarked. "I don't think there's anything you can do to repel these guys then." 

"Now _that's _a horrible thought," said Sirius. "We'll have to work on it, won't we? OK, now everyone shhh…"   
  


Remus didn't fight any Dementors that night. He claimed that conjuring them was depressing, which it wasn't, particularly, and waited impatiently for Sirius and Lily to tire. He had discovered, with his first couple of tries at the Patronus Charm, that "Getting Into Hogwarts" really didn't work as a happy memory. His only near success had come when he thought back to the first day of their third year, when he'd arrived at school with a trunkful of Transfiguration books. Not only were James and Sirius delighted to read them, but they, too had spent their vacations doing research and rehearsing spells. The Animagus project had begun in earnest. 

Somehow, tonight, that was just too nerve-wracking. When James leaned over to whisper that he'd shown Peter how to shut off the Whomping Willow, Remus tried to look grateful, although this bit of news made him more anxious than ever. 

Maybe he wasn't the only one, though. Sirius was doing worse with his Patronus than the very first time he tried it; he didn't seem to be able to concentrate. Finally, in a rage, he blew the last of the shape-shifters to pieces and stomped off to bed. Remus followed; James and Lily clearly had another ideas. 

Neither spoke as they mounted the stairs to Gryffindor tower, which had to be a first. The password this week was "mare tranquillitatis," which Remus thought was cruelly ironic, and he didn't even like to say it. "Mare crisium, oceanus procellarum," he murmured under his breath. 

"Mare ingenii," Sirius added with a grin, showing he knew his lunar maps as well as anyone. "Nervous, buddy?" 

The dorm was filled with sleeping boys. "Oh, God," Remus tried to whisper as softly as he could. "I keep having dreams that you're caught and expelled, or that you change back and--" 

"Me too." Sirius clutched his stomach. "I dreamt McGonagall transformed me in class! Don't worry, everything's fine. We won't change back." 

Remus finally put his finger on his anxiety. "I'm afraid you'll hate me," he whispered, glad for the darkness. "You're such happy, cute animals—and me--" 

"So first James is an herbivore, and now I'm a domesticated swot, is that it?" He glanced at the surrounding beds, then cupped his hands around his mouth and put them to Remus' ear. "We'll wait for half an hour after moonrise. I'll come down the tunnel first, and before I meet you—I'll bark. If everything is OK, bark back." 

Sirius' obvious delight at being able to bark amused Remus. Laughing quietly, they got into their beds.   
  


Lily wasn't sure what awakened her—she had a vague sense that she'd heard howling. She crawled out of bed, climbed out of the dungeons, and looked out the window. The full moon was still high in the sky, illuminating the grounds. Everything was very still. 

Then she heard it again: more than one voice, long howls, but not of pain: she didn't know what they meant. Telling herself that her friends wouldn't have left the Shrieking Shack, she went back down to the Slytherin dorms and crawled back into bed. 

Her lunascope bleeped just at moonset. Wrapping herself in her warmest robes and James' Invisibility Cloak, she mounted the stairs and headed for the Whomping Willow. It was darker than it had been at midnight. 

She almost didn't see the rat before she trod on him. "Peter!" she whispered. "Good, don't change back yet—wait until you reset the tree." 

Peter couldn't reply, of course, but he seemed to be quivering all over. Was he stuck? He would certainly be easier to get back to the castle this way—Lily had an urge to pick him up and cram him into her pocket. 

Now there was a rustle in the leaves underneath the willow, and the dog appeared. He shook himself, once, and then he was Sirius. 

"Whoa, Sirius," Lily whispered, "you _stink."_

"I know," he grinned, "I rolled in something. It smelled great at the time. Do you have my wand?" 

Lily gave it to him so he could de-stink himself, and was about to say something about them running around the grounds—or the forest? the village?—but Sirius noticed Peter first. 

"What's wrong with him?" 

"I don't know. I thought he was just waiting to reset the Whomping Willow, but--" 

From deep inside the tunnel, there was a terrible crunching noise and a bellow of pain. Lily's heart leapt into her throat. James was down there, and Remus—the moon hadn't entirely set. What would happen if she yelled? "Sirius, what should we--" 

But Sirius was doubled over with silent laughter. "He gets his head stuck every time. He's such a spazz. And the hooves! I keep telling him to have nice, proper paws, like everyone else, but no--" 

James' head appeared under the tree. He was human already. He pulled himself out hastily and brushed sand and pebbles out of his hair. Lily grabbed him in a tremendous hug. "I was so worried!" she whispered. "What happened?" 

"Nothing." He looked sheepish. "It's hard to crawl when you're an ungulate, that's all." 

"James," Sirius whispered, cackling, "James, it _behooves _you--" 

"Shut up, you paw chauvinist--_Padfoot._ I notice I'm the faster runner. Hey, what's wrong with Peter? We have to get out of here before Madam Pomfrey shows up. Peter, get the tree. _The knot on the tree, Peter."_

Even in his weakened, trembling state, Peter obeyed James, and soon the Willow was Whomping once again. They all tucked inside the Cloak, Lily holding Peter roughly by the tail. "It's like a nasty big worm," she remarked. 

"Oh, this is awesome," Sirius laughed, unable to keep his voice down. "Now we've all got names. Moony, and Prongs… Padfoot, and Wormtail!" 

Wormtail gave an enormous shudder—and suddenly he was fat Peter again, taking up more than his fair share of room. He was sniveling, too. 

"Zip it," Lily told him. "We're sneaking, remember? I thought you understood that concept?" 

Only his fear of James kept Peter's mouth shut, but the instant they were back inside the castle he ran bawling to the infirmary.   
  


Remus was in such high spirits when Madam Pomfrey fetched him that he thought he wouldn't need to rest, but he still fell right to sleep and it was past suppertime when he woke up. He looked around the room, wondering where his friends were, hoping they'd experienced last night the way he had. His heart still raced with exhilaration as he remembered tearing through the trees after James, Sirius somewhat behind, the moonlit forest to his wolf's eyes as bright as day. The only pain he felt right now was a slight ache in his legs from too much running, and he was hungry, restless, and wanted out of here. 

But the figure in the next bed looked somehow familiar. 

"Peter?" Remus whispered, guiltily caring less about his friend than about their secret. 

Peter rolled over under the covers and didn't answer. 

Remus leapt up and peeked under the blanket. "Peter? What are you doing here? What happened, did something go wrong--?" 

He wasn't furry. He didn't have a tail. But he wasn't talking. 

Dressing as quickly as possible, Remus dashed for the doorway—but came to a skidding halt as he almost plowed into Madam Pomfrey. 

"Just where do you think you're going, young man?" 

"I'm fine!" he protested, praying she wouldn't ask him anything about Peter. "I have homework, and--" 

"You're fine when I say you're fine, and I don't want you out of that bed today. Look at you, like a ghost." 

"I'm just hungry, that's all. I wasn't hurt, you know I wasn't, not this time." He searched for a story, and was very surprised at the one his brain decided to tell. "The moon was at apogee last night, it was farther from the earth and smaller than usual." This was in fact true, but it was only 7% smaller than usual, and he was quite certain that didn't matter. It was just a random fact he'd learned last week from Professor Sinistra. 

It probably wasn't this story that convinced her, but Madam Pomfrey let him go after just a few minor indignities (what did she expect to see by flipping your eyelids over like that?). Remus tore off down the corridor and up to the Gryffindor common room. There was no one there. 

He tried the dormitory. James' drapes were pulled. Not him, too! "James!" Remus stuck his head in. "Oh!" he yelled, pulling his head out again. 

He wouldn't have thought what James and Lily were doing was geometrically possible. 

"Sorry," he called. "I'm really sorry. I just had a heart attack when I saw Peter in the infirmary--" He turned to run away, dreadfully embarrassed. 

"Wait, don't go!" There was laughter. James and Lily emerged with most of their clothes back on. "I think he just got a little stuck," Lily snickered. 

"He got stuck? And I couldn't help--" 

"Don't worry. He's fine. He's just trying to attract attention." 

"OK. I'm so sorry for barging in like this." Remus looked at the floor, afraid to meet their eyes. "I was just worried something had happened to you, too, James." When he finally looked up, he saw kindness in James' gaze and laughter in Lily's. "Are you OK? Where's Sirius?" 

"Clearly I'm feeling fine," James replied with a grin, his cheeks turning a little pink. "Sirius—or Padfoot, rather—is out running laps around the field right now so he'll be able to keep up with us next time." 

"You mean it? You had an OK time?" Remus sounded like a geeky boy after the prom. 

James laughed a deep, cheerful laugh. "Oh, Moony, I won't miss another full moon with you for as long as I live." 

"That should be more than a thousand of them," said Remus, for once rounding the number up and hoping that saying it would make it true. 

"So much for staying in the Shrieking Shack," Lily commented wryly. "So it _was_ you I heard." 

"Totally my fault," Remus admitted. "I wanted to howl at the moon, couldn't resist. Sirius kind of liked the idea. Then he smelled a squirrel, and before you know it, we were halfway to London." He tried not to smile, but failed. 

She looked at James. "Sometimes I wonder: dead squirrels, dashing through the forest… this is your idea of fun? And isn't that forest full of monsters… oh, right." 

Remus laughed. "We weren't the biggest and baddest monsters, but we could hold our own, right, Prongs? There was an ogre behind that tree—did you smell him?" 

"I sure did," James replied. "He gave me a fright." 

"We gave him a worse one." Still hardly daring to believe, but with most of his anxiety dissipated, Remus felt sleepy once again. He shut his eyes for a second, trying to recapture the sounds and smells of last night before his human mind took over completely and erased them. 

"I can see we're not tempting you," James told Lily, squeezing her hand. 

"I'm less tempted with every new detail." 

Remus opened his eyes and looked at her. "But you'd be so good, Lily!" he cried, forgetting himself. "Something intelligent and beautiful, like a red fox…" 

She smiled, both at the innocence in his voice and his obvious preference for members of the dog family. She'd never received a werewolf compliment before; it was kind of cute. "I'm glad you think so highly of me, but you know what kind of grades I get in Transfiguration. I'd either get stuck or end up a wretched little beast like Peter." She cackled. "I bet he's just in the infirmary because you three scared the snot out of him!" 

"Do you think so?" Remus raised his eyebrows. "I did pick him up in my mouth once… just to help him across the creek, he's a poor swimmer… I hope he didn't take it wrong," he added, clearly having difficulty understanding why Peter might have been frightened at being dragged through an icy torrent in a werewolf's jaws. 

"Why don't you get some dinner and catch up on your homework, and I'll deal with Peter," James suggested. "It's probably not a good idea to let Madam Pomfrey to see you two together. That's why we didn't come to see you--we were afraid she'd see we were tired, or notice leaves in our hair, or something." 

"Are you sure? Well, thanks. When you find out, I'll be in the library." He dashed off. 

James looked at Lily. "Whatever form they're in, Remus tries to help and Peter gets it wrong," he said with a laugh. "Do you want to come along and wring the truth out of him?" 

A look of scorn appeared briefly on Lily's face, but she wiped it off. "If I must… But only because I love you, James."   
  


Supper had ended not long before, so Remus had no trouble getting a plate of sandwiches and a jug of pumpkin juice. He carried his plate outside and sat on the stone steps of the castle to watch the moon. It had risen about an hour later than yesterday, and would still have looked full to a less trained eye. The apogee event—the moon was farther from the earth than it could possibly get—didn't make any noticeable difference in the size, but Remus imagined that the features on its surface looked slightly different than at other times. 

A flash of light drew his gaze down towards the forest. Hagrid had just illuminated his cabin for the night, and something whose eyes glinted yellow was peering around one corner. At least the creature, whatever it was, appeared to have no more than one head and two eyes. 

Although James and Sirius visited Hagrid often, Remus had always avoided, even disliked him. Maybe it was the gamekeeper's love of animals, which evoked such mixed feelings in Remus. More likely it was that Hagrid was a living, breathing example of the worst thing that could happen to any of them: expulsion from Hogwarts. They'd all heard that whatever he'd done, it had actually resulted in a student's death. Had he really been at fault? Would his name be cleared one day? 

Pity was one of the least noble of the emotions, and Remus was ashamed to feel it now—but to be _expelled_… To lose your _wand_… 

Yet Hagrid continued to live, bustling cheerfully about his cabin with his menagerie of savage monsters. 

Oh, hell, Remus thought, pouring a glass of juice. They'll make him a teacher here about the same time they make _me_ one. 

The yellow eyes had moved from the cabin and were now heading for the castle. Remus watched, alert but not frightened, as the beast came running directly at him. 

When it was less than three feet away, he began to get scared—but not for the reasons he would have thought. 

"What are you doing, you idiot?" he whispered. 

Sirius was laughing even before he was human again, jogging to a stop beside his friend and taking the last sandwich. "I knew it was you." 

"But someone in the castle might see… or Hagrid… Be careful, Sirius." Might as well try to tell him not to chase squirrels. 

"But it's so much fun!" He glanced at the moon. "I can't believe we only get to do this once a month. I'm getting really fast, you'd better watch it." He looked down at his sandwich with distaste. "I smelled ham and cheese, and this is peanut butter… Hey, you know what, Moony?" He hesitated only slightly. "I can't tell what you are, when I'm a dog. You smell like any other person." 

"As you smell like any other dog, when you're transformed, otherwise it'd be bad news for you," Remus told him frankly. "There are subtler clues," he added after a moment's thought; sensing these sorts of things had become so instinctive to him that it was hard to describe. "I can't tell you're an Animagus, necessarily: but you're clearly cleverer than an ordinary dog, and there's an aura of magic about you. It's good magic, too—so I imagine real animals like you, is that right?" 

"Hagrid's dogs all do," he replied, grinning. 

That thought was somehow disgusting. "You just need more practice," Remus told him. "There are plenty of monsters in the Forbidden Forest--just sniff carefully next time." 

"Are you saying you should smell like Dark Magic?" Sirius was intrigued, but even he wasn't foolhardy enough to transform right here on the steps of the castle. He put down the peanut butter sandwich and drank the rest of the pumpkin juice. "I can't tell; you're right, there are lots of things I need to practice. Just running on all fours is kind of strange--I keep trying to stand up to get over things, instead of jumping properly. Hey, maybe Lily's right in a way: maybe you're good at Defense Against the Dark Arts because demons and things are afraid of you." 

"Lily's almost always right," said Remus quietly. "That's why it's so beautiful to see her and James together." 

Sirius put down the pitcher with a thump and a "gack" of disgust. "Oh, God... Come on, it's nice to see you cheered up, and all, but if you turn into some kind of sappy pinhead like James--"   
Growling playfully, he chased Remus up the stone steps and into the castle.   
  


James put some books and parchment onto the bed. "We brought your homework. Are you OK?" 

"You were just scared, Peter," said Lily, "admit it." 

Peter couldn't ignore James, thought he was still a bit quivery. "Thank you, I..." He rustled through the pile of books looking for snacks. 

"No sweets for you," Lily told him. "You're too fat." She laughed. "If you lost weight you might be a better swimmer." 

This made Peter squeal in terror, turning to James with his little beady eyes open. He wouldn't look at Lily. 

"Did you have any problems with--" James almost didn't expel air as he spoke, so that there was no chance Madam Pomfrey would hear-- "with the spell?" 

Peter shook his head emphatically, trying to regain his dignity. 

"Well, then," said James, as if that settled it. "You don't have to come with us, but--" 

"I want to!" squealed Peter. "I really do! I just-- he's a _monster,"_ he finished pleadingly, tears coming to his eyes. 

"Which one?" James wondered with a laugh. "Really, if you're scared, I'm sure either Sirius or Remus would let you ride on his back..." 

Peter gave such a squeak that Lily burst out laughing. She slapped her hand across her mouth in apology. "Oh, I'm sorry. There's nothing wrong with being scared, Peter," she tried to say, bending over to whisper even more softly than James. "_I_ certainly wouldn't want to be in the Forbidden Forest in the middle of the night. But your friends will take care of you; they're nice puppies." 

James didn't like to imagine Remus' reaction at hearing himself called a "nice puppy." "Or you could try to ride on _my_ back, I suppose," he said doubtfully. "There's less to hang on to, but if you'd feel better--" 

Peter nodded vigorously, pulling the blankets up to his chin and looking at James with what appeared to be reverence, but might have been something else as well. 

Lily regarded him with suspicion but said nothing. She rose to go, tugging on James' robe impatiently. 

As they left, Peter's smile dissolved and he gave them both a glare of hatred out of his tiny, watery eyes.   
  


THE END 


End file.
